


Dread Tomorrow

by HypnoticSquirrel



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: The Animated Series, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics), Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Batman: The Killing Joke References, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Plot Twists, Slow Burn, Spoiler: John becomes Joker eventually, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29587275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HypnoticSquirrel/pseuds/HypnoticSquirrel
Summary: John Doe's life has been nothing but tragedy until he encounters Bruce Wayne at a bar, a night that changes his life forever.
Relationships: John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 29
Kudos: 87





	1. New Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is dedicated to all the fanfiction authors who write Batjokes. I have taken from them for too long and have decided to give something back. ♥

It was a winter morning in Gotham city. The brisk chill air froze John's senses and bit at his skin as he gravely laced his way through remote avenues on his way to work at Ace Chemicals. He bore at his shadow projected in front of him by the early rising sun behind him. The condensation of his breath was hitting against his rouge flushed cheeks and his runny nose was giving him the sniffles.

At the crack of dawn, shop workers were stepping out on the icy pavement to place signs out signifying the store's opening. The notice boards were flashy and colorful, contrasting against the gothic achromatic buildings surrounding them.

John ambled over the crossroads whilst the traffic lights still glared green. The roads weren’t busy with traffic yet plus he lived on the outskirts of Gotham, it was a luxury to own a car around these parts and even more of a rarity to not have it stolen.

He strode through the left-over snow from the storm last night with battered leather boots. The soles were loose, causing him to trip up in the sleet. They were also useless against the ice as they had lost their grip after being worn down from many years of wearing them

Eventually he approached a small news stall. There was a shabby heater within it, keeping the seller warm and emitting out steam. The temperate mist gave John a small taste of warmth again as it blew through him. The stall’s front display was littered with magazines about trivial celebrity gossip and the morning stacks of papers were damp from the spitting rain being blown in under the store's roof. A short queue had already formed to buy a coffee and a copy of this morning’s paper. He briefly stopped by the stack of newspapers, as his eye had caught the headline for today’s news.

Peering down at the headline it read ‘Caped Crusader Storms Streets Again'. He looked closer and studied the blurry photo that had been stretched and enlarged to fit the paper's cover. He could make out the silhouette of a man swinging by what appears to be some kind of rope attached to a grapple, flying through the night sky with a jagged cape. The moon was the only source of light which made his features hard to read. This left it up to the reader's imagination to fill in the blanks with their own worse fears.

John contemplated on the material of the costume, could it deflect bullets? Surely the vigilante could be shot from the sky if the police fired at him; although, the man did look hard to target and even harder to find. That is if he even was a man.

The silhouette had pointy ears, plus the cape looked like wings. The news assured it was a costume made to look like a creature, but John was open to anything. He then wondered how freeing that must feel like, to soar through the night sky glancing down on crossroads where the people roaming over them looked like ants. The concept made his thoughts grow dark and he debated whether throwing himself off the tallest building to get a taste, might be worth it, despite the cost.

John always had a problem with his mind getting lost and swaying with whichever way the wind blew. It had been a hindrance for him at school, with work and even with his relationships; pretty much everything.

“Hey! This isn’t a free viewing!” the shopkeeper shook his fist at him, distracted from serving a customer who had turned to stare at him. In fact, the whole queue had turned to stare at him. Stunned and flustered, he hurriedly staggered away not wanting to cause any more trouble or worse start a fight.

John was fearful of any threat and usually tried to stay out of trouble as much as possible. However, he always seemed to helplessly fall into it on accident. It seems people got angry at him over nothing or things he can’t control. Such as clumsily missing over something, or not getting it right because he can’t see whatever it is they’re seeing, no matter how many times they explained it.

Due to this, he was never the top dog anywhere. Usually he was pushed to the side or back of the room, so he wasn’t a disturbance to the rest of the class. He would barely even call himself an underdog as he hasn’t risen at all from the pit that’s slowly sinking him further down to the rank of complete failure.

With his tall height but skinny frame letting him down, he was no Hercules and was the typical pushover. He couldn’t intimidate any man; he was no threat no matter how much he puffed his chest and clenched his fists. Therefore, he had always grown up with the impulse to choose flight over fight.

This and being more effeminate on the masculine scale also made him the prime target for bullies. At school, he'd often get bullied for his sharp chin and pointed nose. There was something so ‘punch-able’ about his face he’d often hear them say. Despite craving to socialize and fit in, John had learned to accept his doomed life of solitude. It had become easier to face than the constant rejection.

The one relationship he had formed and managed to maintain was with his wife Jeanie. He had met her out of school and managed to pull her by some miracle. He didn’t know what she saw in him. He recalled her saying that she liked men who were gentle and fragile, and that was John all over. She had always been that way herself and was over boys who behaved the opposite. John thought she was missing out.

Either way, she was like a dainty delicate flower he never wanted to violate nor trample. So knowing himself to be a klutz, he didn’t push or ask for anything from her out of fear of messing things up. With his low esteem bringing out his soft side, she had found it easy to share with him her sexual abuse with her ex-partners, which was the reason for the opposition with the top dog kind of guys John envied to be.

They had kissed only a few times at the start of their relationship but, they had never gone further. She was traumatized from past experiences and John was… well, he had issues where he didn’t seem to want to ever do such things. Maybe the bullying had beaten any worth he had as a man out of him. Luckily Jeanie didn’t seem to mind at all, so he had stopped worrying about it a long time ago. Once again, he simply accepted it as another area of his life he was doomed to always fail in.

Aging into his late 20s, John's money situation hadn’t grown any better. He seemed to be forever stuck in poverty. All he owned was bland cheap suits of multiple shades of brown. Making him the stranger your eyes glossed over in the murkiness of a crowd, easily blending in with the walls and pavement. The most self-caring thing he had was pomade for his hair, combining that with some cooking oil kept his hair swept back in a greaser style. John did care very much about fashion, he’s always admired it, and his hair was the one thing he let himself indulge in.

Overall, his life has been far from exciting. John's life has been nothing but blandness except for the day of his marriage which was only bared witness to by Jeanie’s side of the family, with John having never known his. He often wondered whether he should track down his origin, but he felt embarrassed. What would they think if they found out their child’s a deadbeat loser. Perhaps they would be glad to have gotten rid of him. It was better off not knowing. Family remained a vague concept to him.

With the wedding day being years behind him, it too soon blurred into the wish-wash memories of his life and every day from now on looks destined to be no brighter. There were no hopes or plans for anything great happening anytime soon.

Little did John know, his life was only about to grow more tragic. It seemed just when he thought he couldn't sink any further down into the pit that was his life destined for the misery it catches him off guard. He had finally made it to work to only be made redundant; sacked off due to budget cuts. He was one of the first to go, his usual daydreaming costing him a bad reputation and being known as a lackadaisical worker.

Furthermore, John hated going to work and struggled to hide it. To no one's surprise, Ace Chemicals was no fun. John being weak in the arms and not burly made him a poor worker for heavy lifting. It just simply made him a target for the other men to mock and tease him for about it. This moved him on to become a machine operator. The controls were cold to touch with no heaters, and in a Gotham winter such as this, it was the worst. He felt his fingers becoming ice pops and thought they were going to snap off sometimes.

There was also the issue of general complaints from the other co-workers about his unusual social habits and unnecessary comments. At lunch he struggled, as expected, to get along with his co-workers. He would just say odd comments like the skies color that day or how he saw a pigeon peck at its own kind on his way to work. It seemed to cut conversations dead and he soon found himself sat alone at his usual table in the makeshift staffroom.

John never understood why because he thought those conversations were the most interesting. He's always preferred talking about life's mysteries and why we exist, rather than talking about what was on television this morning or partners and relationships. Those things were dull to him, plus he didn’t even have cable.

Part of him had always hoped on getting out of this dingy old factory, but not like this. Now he was just left abandoned and no better off than when he first joined. He couldn't think of where to even go after this as he had nothing prepared or lined up.

He trudged home back down the same avenues he had walked this morning. Passing the news stand that now had its cover closed and was locked shut. The gothic buildings around him were littered with square lights from workers in warm offices, counting down the minutes left of their shift.

He kicked an empty can down the road with a huff rolling over in his head how he was going to explain this all to Jeanie. She wasn’t doing well herself, with her job causing her to be out late and on the streets at night in danger. She didn’t like to talk much about what she did at first it. Initially, she was a waitress at a small-time diner shack down the road across from them, working just the odd shifts here and there. However, she would come home with more money on the side and sometimes injuries that she assured John it was best not to question. She simply asked for aid with her recovery, often asking for John to pick up some plasters and painkillers from the pharmacy on his way back from work. Out of the two of them, she had the worst nightmares.

Reluctantly, John made it back home to their attached house. A tiny little thing squished between other abodes. The bricks are worn and grey, fitting into the downtown Gotham aesthetic. Before entering, he stamped his feet on the cobble outside the front door, noticing how a brick had come loose. He then wiggled a rusted key in the stiff key lock getting the door to open finally after finding that certain angle.

Due to Jeanie having left the garbage bags in the hallway, the door only opened slightly ajar and he squeezed himself through the doorway. Once inside, he shrugged off his coat and dropped the key on the kitchen sideboard. He stuck the heater on and began to cook dinner so it will be ready for Jeanie when she gets home. Her shifts were no later than nine and she warned him if they were to call the authorities. That means he still had a few hours to dwell on how he was going to break the bad news.

Jeanie had returned home at around eight-thirty, chilly from the cold and wrapped up in blankets. Snowdrops had fallen and stuck to her hair and she was clearly tired. John thought she looked like an angel. She took a moment to fill the bins outside as the bin man had come this morning and John had forgotten to do them as he was too nervous and anxious. He barely managed to cook dinner right having nearly burnt everything as he got lost running multiple scenarios on how Jeanie was going to react to the news over in his mind.

Jeanie took off her own dirty old heels dropping them next to John's worn boots and despite taking off her coat; she kept her scarf on to stay warm. Entering the kitchen, John placed their plates on the table for her and she greeted him with warm eyes and a forced smile from a hard day of work, not wanting to let on how tired she really was. Jeanie stroked a hand over his waist as she passed him to sit down.

"How was your day?" she inquired, warm and mushy as usual.

"Alright," he lied, as he couldn't get the truth out. He emptied his cold coffee down the sink and moved to sit and join her at the table.

John had waited until they were tucking themselves into bed for him to tell her, the bad news eventually weighing down too hard on his soul. The words struggled to escape him and that’s when Jeanie offered to share her own dark secret in return for his.

"Okay..." he breathed, his heart suddenly dropped on what it could be and how worse this night could get.

"I'm pregnant"

By the end of the night, John was lying wide awake in bed, still recovering at the idea- no reality- that Jeanie was pregnant with a child who was obviously not his. A result of a mistake made at work, and again he was expected to not ask any more into it. She clearly regretted it; he could see that through all the tears, and as usual, John did not want to break her any more than she already was broken. He simply nodded his head and only let her tell him as much as she wanted to and no more. If he was honest, the story horrified him. It was difficult to wrap his mind around how cruel the world can be.

In their dimly lit bedroom, John stared up at the cracked ceiling. At some point rain must have trickled in between the roof tiles, causing the ceiling to leak and leave behind dark patches in the paint. He treats them like clouds in the sky and tried making shapes out of them to stop his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

The effort was futile. How quick was he going to find a new job? How was he supposed to get out of this mess and off this dirty old mattress? How was he expected to stick around and help Jeanie raise a child that was not his? That is if she even decides to keep it.

Part of him couldn’t ever leave her. They've gone through thick and thin together and have been stuck in this hell hole since he can remember. If he abandoned her, he would forever hate himself for it. It's not like it was her fault after all.

He closed his eyes with a hiss, struggling with the comprehension of all of it. He had told her he forgave her and she forgave him and that was the end of it. They then agreed that they’d find a way to keep going and get through all this because that’s the only option they've ever had and it’s what they’ve always done.

He checked the time on his frayed leather watch resting on the bedside table, and it was just turning quarter to 10, the usual time he and Jeanie went to sleep for a work night. He turned his head to find she was already asleep, back facing him and softly breathing. That or she was pretending and was trying to stop herself from succumbing to dark thoughts of her own. 

He found himself gingerly crawling out of bed, the warm heat trapped under the duvet escaping as he lifted it. His feet hit the cold stained carpet, and he stood up against the freezing air of their room. The draft swept in heavy from the window, sending goosebumps across his bare chest. He slipped on his suit from today back on and snuck downstairs to get his shoes that were still wet from walking in the snow on his way back from work. He hauled on his coat and wrapped his neck with a scarf. Carefully, he then opened the front door, not wanting to make a noise. As soon as he stepped outside, he was hit with the late-night chill that stung harder than Gotham’s mornings. He made sure to shut the door just as gently as he had opened it and locked it tight.

There were only a few stars in the sky tonight, and the moon was full. It shone against the deserted skyscrapers, which were just black silhouettes now, with the office workers having retired for the night. John buried his hands deep within his coat pockets as he trailed his way to the local bar. The dimly lit lamp posts and his shoddy memory of its location were the only things guiding his way. It was incredibly dangerous being out at night like this in the downtown area. Crimes were burning like fire right now in Gotham, and fuel was only being added to it. But at this point, John almost hoped for his life to be put to an end, as long as they made it quick. 

He was never one for alcohol, but times like this drove him to a bar seeking it. Drinking was the only solution that manages to numb his mind and stop him from wanting to do anything drastic. With this being one of his darkest days yet, the decision was a no-brainer, he craved it.

The Black Boars Bar was a small shabby thing, but these kinds of bars had their own spark and flare to them. The downtown bars of Gotham were rich with life that was hard to find anywhere else. They were filled to the brim with the downtown lower-class, who drunk away their sorrows and laughed through hard times. You wouldn't find a single person who wasn't trying to forget their woes and sins, hoping to pass out until the next morning when they would wake to hangovers and repeat the whole cycle again. 

As John eventually found the bar after backtracking a few times and spotting road signs he hadn't read in a while, he stepped up to the old heavy black painted door, excited for what resided behind it. It was incredibly loud and bustling inside just as expected. John's eardrums felt like they were being blown out due to them going from the quiet chill wind to the shouting, yelling, and boisterous laughter of the crowd inside. It was like when you accidentally turn on the radio with the dial turned full volume.

He trudged in on his own, taking small steps, back slouched and hesitant to bump into anyone or knock a drink over and cause trouble. However, it was hard to avoid sticking out elbows and flailing hands and he caught a few grazes with people, but they luckily didn’t pay any mind. 

The waft of cigarettes clung to the inside of his nose and the soft luxurious red carpet felt soft to his boots compared to the pavement outside. It was much warmer in here, and he could catch his breath again as wondered over in the direction of the bar. Wanting to be left to himself as much as possible, he chose the seat positioned at the end of the bar in the dark corner. The jukebox nearby was currently playing an album of classic 80s rock.

He sat himself down on the red scuffed leather bar stool and rubbed numb fingers from the cold through his dark chocolate hair. The barman, having spotted him, walked over to greet him. Being not a regular, the man could tell today was a rough one. John clearly looked like he was here to purely wallow in his own pity.

"One lager please," John whispered, barely managing to lift a finger to emphasize nor raising his head high enough to meet eyes with the barman.

The barman nodded, a tall, tanned burly man who looked like he was dealing guns rather than drinks with his dark expression and unshaven face down to his neck. He wore a dirty apron wrapped around a large belly. In a few seconds, a large pint was placed on the blemished counter before John, the slam of it jolting him out of his thoughts. John reached for his dusty tattered wallet in his inside jacket pocket, a crumpled photo of him and Jeanie on their wedding day dangled out the side of it.

"Free one on the house" the man rumbled in understanding. It was the kindest gesture he’s had in years, and it made him want to cry.

John bent his head and brought the heavy pint to his lips, sipping at the bitter liquid. He couldn't stand the taste but hoped it did some kind of miracle to his senses to make all his feelings go away and leave him feeling numb.

On the opposing wall, John studied the bar owner's family photographs framed on the old tattered rose wallpaper in front of him. Black and white photographs of retired men with happy faces, celebrating their success. John groaned aloud and tried to find reasons why he shouldn't just crack his skull open against the counter and be done with it all.

A businessman much more attractive than him, and probably anyone in this bar ended up sitting across from him leaving a seat between them. He seemed heavily distracted on his cell phone. A device you don’t often see around these parts with only the rich being able to afford them. It piqued John's curiosity and he studied it as a distraction to his thoughts. 

The barman walked over, drying a pint glass with a brown stained tattered towel.

"Two spritz," the man ordered, not even raising his head. His eyes were glued to the phone screen, but he did manage to raise two fingers to emphasize his words, unlike John. The barman got right to it with a curt nod.

"Fuck..." the man snapped unexpectedly, throwing the thing down on the counter. It made John jolt and shiver at seeing such a valuable device be carelessly battered like that.

"Rough day huh?" John inquired, as he stared down into the near empty bottom of his glass. Watching how the bubbles grouped together.

"Are... are you talking to me?" the man scoffed, glancing over with a confused face. John hadn’t even looked up to face him when he spoke, and was startled to glance up to find the man gawking at him.

"I uh… sorry," He mumbled, turning his flustered face away. John always found himself messing up with social cues. Was he supposed to wait for eye contact first? It just felt right for him to say it. He had an issue with speaking aloud without much thought. Used to always being ignored, he hadn’t expected a response from the other man, but he still saw nothing wrong with what he said.

Eventually, the barman wandered back with two small shot glasses filled to the top with a blood red liquid.

"I said spritz, what do you call these?" the business man bit with a look of bewilderment at what he had been handed.

"What you expecting, lemon toppings?" the barman huffed.

"Ugh…" the other groaned, clearly appalled by the barman's sloppiness. He reached for his discarded phone again, likely crawling back to check his messages.

The barman after a pause, turned to cut a slice of lime, spat on it, then stuck it on the edge of one of the shot glasses. 

"That better? Jackass" he scorned, marching away to clean a leftover glass again. The businessman hadn't even noticed, as he was consumed by the device. He had one elbow planted on the counter, with his body tilted away facing John coincidentally and appeared to be writing out another message with fierce attacks from his fingers. The man seemed to have worst social cues than him, which made John giggle.

Feeling mocked, the man glanced over to him. He glared at John with dagger like eyes that only made him grin wider. 

"You ask for the cheapest thing they had?" the man retorted, getting a jab in as he was plainly feeling overly defensive. John had never seen someone look so grumpy.

"No..." He scoffed into his sleeve, trying to hold back his giggling. He liked the guy's arrogant attitude and how oblivious he was to the people around him. He couldn’t help but find it hilarious! It made him not feel so bad about himself.

"Is my misery amusing to you?" the man smirked at him, unexpectedly. Those white teeth causing John to lower his guard and giggle more till eventually, he stopped trying to hide it, and flat out laughed hysterically.

"Kind of..." John drawled after re-composing himself. He brought the pint up to his lips to down the last dribbles of his drink. The man's insults were rolling off him after the hell of today. Right now, John found he really didn’t take offence to them but instead simply admired the man's sass. Glancing back, he locked eyes with him. The man's gaze had never left his face. 

"You’re not a people person are you?" John murmured.

'What do you mean?"

"I think the guy spat in your drink..."

"You reckon? Well, that’s just my luck today isn't it…" he groaned. The dark-haired man placed money on the counter and John noticed it was a hundred-dollar bill. 

"Swooo...." John whistled looking at it. Imagine having that much to spend on a spoiled drink from a barman that treats you rough.

The man got up from his stool making John think he had driven yet another person to prefer to leave his presence, rather than stand the torment of speaking to him any further. Until the suited man approached him, leaning over and sliding an elbow across the counter, carelessly knocking his empty pint glass away from him.

Up close he could see the man’s face vividly. He had a very stubbly chin and John didn’t realize a man’s eyelids could slant like that to look so attractive. He had a wide jaw making him look more like a boxer than a businessman and his thick dark brows gave him a weary expression. Dark circles gloomed under his eyes causing him to appear exhausted and beat –down, like he was grieving, despite his bold attitude.

"How about we get out of here?" the man nodded towards the exit to the bar. His smile seemed pretentious and overly warm. John couldn’t tell if his pristine teeth were real or artificial.

"Go where? Everything’s shut at this hour…" John’s eyes roamed over the others face, slightly in shock at the proposal. He couldn’t think of many places downtown. Plus it was also getting late and Jeanie would be worried where he was if she had woken up by now to find him gone.

"Got a wife?"

"Yeah, and I need to get back to her..."

"She won’t mind..."

John quirked a brow, bedazzled at how a man who couldn’t possibly know that, could say that with such confidence.

"Don't swing that way?" the man pressured further and he glanced around the room as if to check for any eavesdroppers. He was suddenly behaving very conspicuous. John was confused at the secrecy. He reached into his pocket to pull out more hundred-dollar bills and place them on the counter in front of them, the edges crimpled.

"Usually this changes minds..."

Why would the man pay him to hang out with him?

"How lonely are you?" John scoffed.

The man scowled at him. 

"Well not enough to bribe someone who’s an ass about it..."

"Bribe me for a night out down the town? I’d just go with you, but I told you I can’t... maybe tomorrow?" John offered. He felt guilty at turning the man down. He had always wanted to make a friend and this felt like a great opportunity, it just couldn’t have occurred at a worse time.

The businessman let out a rich deep chuckle. "I’m not asking you for a trip out to the town you idiot. Can't you read between the lines?"

John just stared blankly at the man.

The other leaned in close, with hushed breath. "I’m asking you to sleep with me..."

John’s eyes shot open. "What?" 

It took him a moment to register what was being proposed to him. He’d never considered sleeping with a man before, or well, he had thought of how it might work which ended up futile. He was still left clueless on how it worked… and this man was offering to show him.

"I can’t..." he said flustered, ”I’ve got to get back home, I’m late."

John stood up abruptly, the barstool scraping behind him and he pushed the bills aside, likely the last time he’d ever touch so much money in his life. Luckily, the man didn’t trail after him as he left the bar. The cold air cooled his skin and eased his flustered face as he stumbled his way outside in a panic.

John made it back home just past midnight. Jeanie was still asleep when he quietly snuck back into the bedroom. Undressing himself down to his boxers, he scrambled into bed wanting to get into the warmth under the covers. It appears she had never woken up, much to his relief.

He had just got offered money for intercourse by a millionaire no- probably billionaire! He wondered what Jeanie would say. Would she have told him to take the offer? John scoffed at himself. He didn’t like men that way so the idea of her telling him to do it and him going along with it was preposterous anyway. Besides, he also knew that she’d rather live a life broke on the streets than rich with a husband who sold himself for money in the worst way possible. 

His heart was still thumping out of his chest and half his mind wanted to analyze every second of that experience and the other wanted to worry about what his life had ahead of him now. He was still caught in a bust and needed to go job hunting tomorrow.

He passed out into the early hours of the morning. The alcohol had finally taken effect and stopped his thinking. It gave him peace of mind for short period of time. A hangover awaited him in the morning.

John approached the old news stand in the wee-hours of the morning. The brisk chill cut into his fingers like any day. The stall owner glared at him till he eventually picked up the paper for this morning and actually paid for it.

“There, not so hard was it?’ the man chided in a patronizing tone, emphasizing his annoyance with John's previous behavior at his stall. He dropped a rusted penny for change in John's outstretched palm.

The headline today was another article about the caped crusader, this time with the press debating on what kind of creature it was trying to represent. Rumors from witnesses reported to have seen a bat logo on the costume. There were then photos showing graffiti of bat symbols around the city as a message from the community supporting the vigilant. The worst one being on the G.C.P.D’s entrance, large and bold, and was the one enlarged on the cover of the paper. The commissioner was offering a reward to whoever could find the vandalizer and promised to stop the want to-be hero playing carelessly outside the law.

John tugged the newspaper open not letting himself go off into a daydream. He was now living with a time limit over his head and didn't have minutes to spare. Under the large font that read ‘Positions Open’, he read the jobs littered underneath:

_HOUSE SUPERVISOR REQUIRED_   
_A small family need 24 hours (one day per week. Off) Resident English-speaking female-_

Nope.

_JOB OPPORTUNITY_   
_Secretary / Steno typist (Male/female)_   
_For a leading custom clearing and forwarding company. Must be well written & good spoken English. At least 60wpm typing speed on direct dictation and good command of operating computers. At least five years working experience-_

Nope!

Going through the list of many jobs it seemed John had been forced to whittle down to three at best with him somewhat fitting the application requirements. With no phone or car, he had to travel on foot to the buildings themselves to apply and hand in his resume. So, he was back to trudging through the snow with his worn boots and clutching a bunch of papers with his resume on them that determined his worth. This time walking miles further than usual in the cold.

A white, misty hue filled the air, blurring the towering gothic skyscrapers around him. The buildings ahead were so hazy and blurred that you could easily imagine them to be giant creatures or strange artifacts. John started to daydream about the end of the world and aliens. 

The snowy white paths gave the city some brightness again, as they contrasted with the black roads and dark towers. The orange lights from the office buildings combined with the mist, made it look like the place was on fire. John noticed he was following the footprints of others who have walked along the same path. He tried aligning his feet to fit them as best as he could for fun. Christmas lights were in the process of being put up around town, wires were being wrapped around trees and lampposts. John didn’t care for such a holiday; he had never personally celebrated it, so he never understood what he was missing out on.

He had gone through two quick interviews this morning with him spotting some stores with help signs in the window. He also made his way to each of the businesses that had been advertising in the paper. John was scaling anything from plumber to chemist to shopkeeper. The typical low-end jobs he could just about scrounge with his bad schooling and few work experiences. It was past noon now and his red nose was growing wet and sore and the tips of his ears were stinging and aching. 

There was just a third and final business to make his way to and drop his resume off before he could call it quits and that was Wayne tower. He had got the bus for that one, as he was too far away from it, living in the outskirts of the city.

He had arrived at Wayne tower, a tall and luxurious building in the heart of Gotham. It really was the peak of tech in the city and a symbol of modern-day advancement. A giant white logo shone on top of the tower, contrasting harshly against the dark aura of the skyscraper. The overall theme was modern but still gothic enough to match Gotham's vibe with its charcoal outer walls. It had a million lit windows representing the hundreds of offices inside.

For a man that never owned a computer and used pay phones he was confused why he ever thought he had a chance but hey ho, the job wasn’t really asking for much, and it's nothing he couldn’t learn.

Walking into the lobby was like walking into a paradox. It was like he had jumped forward a hundred years into the future. The deluxe leather couches probably costing more than his rent. Everything was sleek and hard and glossy from the floor to the walls. TVs were dangling overhead, playing advertisement of the next Wayne products. Fake plants were placed around here and there, reminding you that you were still on earth and not at an international space airport. It smelt like cleaning products and air fresheners.

Suddenly, John's heart stopped when he saw him again. The businessman from last night was walking along with other fellow businessmen. The three men were trailing behind him. Their suits looked like they cost thousands, the edges of them so sharp they could cut. John roamed his eyes down to study their dark polished shoes clicking against the glossy marble floor.

Their pristine outfits matched their pristine hair, with every strand slicked back and groomed in place like supermodels. Everything neat and composed like they had their whole lives sorted out, planned, and ordered together. There was nothing out of their control.

He was thrown completely off guard at the sight and he snapped his face away from them quickly not wanting to be noticed. He took a deep calming breath as he tapped his foot and continued to wait in line at the reception impatiently. But of course, when they walked past it was just his luck for the man to glance back and spot him. John heard him wave to the other men and tell them to go on without him and he didn’t turn his head to acknowledge the man until the other was literally by his shoulder.

"The guy at the bar, amiright?" the man flashed that bright white smile at him again, and when John met his gaze he noticed he had steel-blue eyes. A detail he had missed before due to his anxiousness at the bar. Not that he wasn’t stumbling for his words and lacking confidence now too.

"Uh..." he breathed out, unsure what to say.

"Aw, don’t go cold on me now"

The first thing John wanted to address was the awkward encounter and ask about the offer; about how that had happened and why.

"I was drunk. I’m sorry." the man apologized, realizing John was unable to get over the awkwardness between them without addressing last night first. "Water under the bridge?" 

The man waved a hand to emphasize his words whilst the other remained in his pant pocket. John studied his fingers and expected groomed nails but that seemed to be the one unpolished things about him. The businessman's nails looked torn and blunt and he even had scabs on his knuckles. John thought the man must be stressed with work and was far more busy punching walls all day than getting paperwork done. The concept made him giggle.

"Don’t mention it" he said scoffing, waving his own hands back. He was still flustered at the memory. Ah, he was drunk. That explains it. Maybe it hadn’t been his first bar of the night then. 

"There’s that laugh...." the man pointed with a smirk, "The one that got you into trouble with me". 

Made conscious of his giggling again, John tried to hold it back. But still, let out a few.

"You applying for the internship here?"

"No, the janitor"

The man's eyes shot open. "What?! I couldn’t sleep at night knowing a guy like you was scrubbing Wayne tower's bathrooms. Let me get you a real job here. You helped me in hard times, saved me from doing something stupid. I’ll help you..."

Help him? John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How inconvenient would that be for this man? He’d have to talk to his boss most likely.

"No, it’s alright... I don’t want you to stick a leg out for me"

"Stick a leg out? I own the place"

"What?"

"I’m Bruce Wayne?" The man said staring at him with a smile and confused brows.

John felt his whole world crumbling under his feet. Was this a joke? But who would do a prank like this? And the confidence he said it in- and- and it could make sense, it’s just John won’t allow himself to believe it. But the man had tipped a hundred dollars at the bar. Could it truly be him?

"Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me? My pictures are on every cover of the magazines; my face is on the walls around this place."

John didn’t read magazines. John skimmed his eyes over the front page of newspapers about vigilantes on the mornings and daydreamed about flying over rooftops.

"I’m sorry... I..." he felt so embarrassed and flustered like he’d just offended the man.

Now it was Bruce's turn to laugh, "Do you even live in Gotham?"

"I live on 6th avenue" John stumbled out, but then realized the question was just a teasing statement.

His mistake earned him another laugh from the man. "See, now you're treating me different... don’t do that". He jabbed a blunt nail at him.

"Okay"

Bruce reached to grab the ruffled papers in John's trembling hand that had become crinkled after a long day of trudging around Gotham. He thought he had done well to keep them still readable. 

"May I?"

"Uh sure..."

"John..." the man said his name off his tongue, "Doe... Wow, are you using an alias, got a secret?"

"What?" John stuttered.

"Uh, nothing... just a detective joke. Do you watch crime watch?"

"No, I don’t..."

"Oh, do you watch any crime stuff?"

"I read the news" John offered, with an anxious expression.

Bruce smirked. "Well, that’s more than enough. Gotham is filled with crime these days... worst city in the country for it, did you know that?"

"No, I didn’t. That’s interesting" John said genuinely intrigued. 

As Bruce turned on a sharp heel and had begun to walk, John forced blood back into his week legs and went to catch up. The man was still holding his resume but not looking at it. John walked slouched with his hands in his pockets whereas Bruce walked tall and straight. John noticed the value of his suit up close, he spotted pointed crisp cuffs, silver cuff links, soft velvet underlying. Bruce had a matching silver pocket cloth to match his silver tie that had black embroidery. That tie must have cost more than John's whole suit. His black raven hair was swept back against his head, smooth and sleek, not a hair out of place except for a small fray that looked purposeful over his forehead.

People greeted them, or more specifically Bruce, as they walked through the lobby. The man didn’t even return the same courtesy, he just kept continuing with his conversation with John. 

"Those people were saying hi to you..."

The man scoffed, "Way to point out the obvious John". He then reached for a door and opened it for John to walk through.

He found the businessman very confusing with how he didn't seem to understand what he meant. For a guy that had roasted him for not reading between the lines, he sure didn’t do the same. 

"So, as I was saying... that vigilante has to be stopped."

"Vigilante?" He must have been talking about that bat creature when he got distracted. "Shame... I wish we made it so everyone could fly around cities. How fun would that be?"

Bruce glanced down at him, and then scoffed. "That’s impossible and impractical..." With his hands in his pockets, his expensive Rolex was sticking out the side.

"He must get cold at night..."

"Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?"

"Uh.... you sort of rambled off"

They stepped into an elevator, walking off the flush carpet of the hallway on to more expensive tiling. The back of the elevator was an entire glass window that faced the bustling streets of Gotham. The elevator was heated, with light piano music playing in the background. 

Bruce pressed the button for the penthouse, and his stomach dropped at the thought of how high they were about to go. He began to feel trapped and claustrophobic in the small space they were in. Bruce's shoulder brushed against his as he moved to stand beside him. His expensive cologne clashing against John’s budget one.

John turned his head to stare out the glass window as they went up the building and his legs went wobbly. 

"Woah there" Bruce chuckled and stilled him with a hand to his shoulder, keeping him from swaying backward. "You’re not going to be swinging from rooftops if you can't handle an elevator. You're definitely not the night crusader."

John closed his eyes to center himself and then shook his head taking a deep breath. "I’m good, I just need to get used to it is all..." 

He stared back out the window and like his daydream, began to see above buildings from an angle he's never viewed before. Looking down below as the people on the streets became ants and his mind was blown. He realized how much Gotham was shaped like a grid and how the traffic flowed efficiently. He saw how he had been one of the many tiny cogs functioning in a whole machine. At eye level, he felt like he was facing the clouds rather than staring up at them.

"It’s alright I’m not a fan of heights either..." Bruce drawled.

"No, I- I love it" John gleamed trying to hide his giddiness, earning an odd look from Bruce. His excitement had got him standing up straight as he rubbed his hands together to release some of his energy. 

"Woah look at that, we're the same height when you're not slouching" the man pointed out, making John feel flustered.

They made it to the penthouse and John walked out the elevator after Bruce. This place was a luxury and he felt like he needed to take his shoes off to not soil the carpet.

Before them, was a long corridor leading up to an office that had been left with its doors wide open. Like the elevator, the back wall was mostly glass, revealing an immense view of the whole of Gotham city below. Without warning, his heart began to thump out his chest. Was he about to be interviewed? Was he going to have to sell himself to the head CEO of the company?

They both entered through the double door frame, John noticed a large animal hide rug was placed under the dark varnished oak desk. He couldn't find any other taxidermy around the room. Instead, he found the walls covered with towering bookcases filled with literature and various ornaments.

“Drink?” Bruce offered as he approached a glass bottle that he presumed was filled with some luxurious brand of whisky.

"No thanks," John waved his hand in dismissal, "I’d much prefer an orange juice right now" he mumbled. He didn’t get his usual carton for lunch like he used to.

Bruce scoffed, "now you’re making requests? You’d be good at this business life John"

"No, I- I meant it offhanded" Johns eyes went wide in panic.

"Watch this...” Bruce walked over to the telephone placed in the corner of his desk. It was black and glossy, matching the rest of the theme in his office. He brought it to his ear and pushed down on a button and then asked for an orange juice and lemonade. 

"Like magic," Bruce said putting the phone down.

Wow, people are hired just to make drinks? That doesn’t sound like such a bad job. Bringing drinks and food to Bruce Wayne’s office sounds like a simple life.

"Pretty cool place... I’m scared to touch anything" John mumbled honestly. He looked at all the fancy ornaments on the bookcase; they had complex designs, likely gifted from famous artists across the world. A mechanical gothic-like owl stood out to him as well as a statue of two monsters, like the ones on gargoyles, fighting each other.

"There’s nothing personal in here..." Bruce waved a hand, "If it breaks, I’m not going to throw you out; although you would save me the hassle."

"So, John Doe, what job do you want? Manager, recruiter…" He seemed to be rolling through a list on his computer. Bruce sat back, arched in the leather hair that was far too big for any man but looked incredibly comfy.

Instead of taking the smaller plush chair Bruce had pulled out for him in front of his desk, John walked around it to peer over Bruce's shoulder at the screen himself. He hasn’t ever seen a computer in person. It was like a square magical box, that you'd have no way of understanding how it worked unless you built it. 

"Can you play any games on that thing?"

"Uh no…" Bruce said, looking up at him.

"Makes sense... wouldn’t get any work done then I suppose"

Bruce scoffed, "good point"

The man then grabbed a fountain-tipped pen with 'Wayne' engraved on the side and began to write on John's resume.

"Weaknesses easily distracted..."

"Hey!” John quipped.

Bruce laughed. The tip had never made contact with the crinkled paper.

"You know what you’ve sold me, how about I pay off your whole retirement?" 

"Retirement?" John looked at him confused. If Bruce was serious, why was this man being so kind to him?

Then the door opened, and a very attractive lady walked in wearing a black dress that clung to every part of her body, making John wonder how she was even taking steps forward. Her tall high heels wouldn't be helping either. She had two drinks in-hand and placed them down on the steel tray where the whisky was. 

"Mr. Wayne" she nodded to Bruce and then as well to John who was looking anywhere but at her nervously. He decided to settle on staring up at the ceiling which he just noticed is made of tiles that had decorative patterns engraved on them.

"You have contracts you need to approve; I’ve organized them all in important to do first"

"I know," Bruce huffed, tapping his pen impatiently on the desk.

"Thanks," John said to her back as she walked away.

"Irresistible, isn’t she?" Bruce added, once they were left alone again. His eyes bore into the monitor as his fingers scraped against his stubbly chin.

"Is she your girlfriend?" John gasped wide-eyed at Bruce’s comment.

"What? no!" Bruce scoffed, "God, you are so-"

"Weird" John filled in for him with a sigh. His hands dug into his holed pockets, as he lightly kicked the air. His head sunk into his chest, having heard it all the time.

"Unique" Bruce said smiling, jabbing the pen at him. 

John's head perked up.

"Listen I get it this life... not your thing"

"What gave it away?" John smirked.

"But I can offer you a job or I can just pay your woes"

"Why? I mean I appreciate the generosity it’s just..."

"Please don’t ever talk about that night, with anyone. Fair deal?"

"Oh..." then John laughed.

"What?"

"I wasn’t going to tell anyone about that anyway. I hadn’t even told my wife when I got in."

"Well, have it as a Thankyou then. Just don’t spill it. I have relatives who... wouldn't approve" Bruce mumbled out, glancing away as though he didn’t want to go into it any further.

"Well... what if it gets out anyway?" 

"How do you mean?” Bruce inquired, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

"Well, what if someone just guesses, or you were seen with someone else and then you come to me thinking I’ve told somebody! Then I say, no! I didn’t say anything!" John wailed, waving his hands with a somber expression as though he was living the memory. "But you don’t believe me and then… and then you take it all away and more! Saying, I'm going to ruin you, John!" He growled out the last line.

Bruce stared at the performance from his desk with his mouth agape, "Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen."

"I’ll take the job!" He said smiling, offering a hand.

Bruce stood tall and clasped it in his own with a squeeze. John noticed the man had a tight grip and a lot of kept back strength. 

"Alright, what do you want?"

"Any, you pick!" John smiled. This day was awesome. He reached for his drink and then gulped it all down.

"You were thirsty" Bruce noted.

"I just like trying to best my record on how fast I can drink!"

Bruce quirked a dark brow at him.

"Just kidding" John smirked.

He was escorted out by Bruce, taking the back exit for staff members so Bruce didn't get caught up in the lobby. The man had asked for John's number as he couldn't find it on his resume, and he confessed that he didn’t have a cellphone. Bruce offered to get him one but John said it’s too confusing and so Bruce ended up writing his own personal number down on the back of one of his glossy black business cards telling John not to lose it

He made it back home from a long day at around dinner time, to see Jeanie had gone to bed early and fallen asleep. She had an extra blanket over her head blocking out what was left of the daylight. She must have been extra tired from another hard day's work and not getting much sleep last night.

Not being able to wait to tell her the great news, he had brought dinner up and sat with her on his side of the bed. He nudged her awake, then shoved at her shoulder that poked out from in between the duvet and blanket when she was taking too long.

Startling awake, she rolled over and was pleased to see him smiling. He began to tell her all about his day, and she was eager to listen. Her mouth began to drop and her eyes grew wide as he got on to the part of meeting Bruce Wayne himself and being escorted to his office.

"Bruce Wayne? Oh dear..." her face looking like she was about to cry, "I think you are having one of your delusions again"

"No no, it was really him! He gave me his number, and everything look…" John rambled, as he wiggled his fingers in the inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out the sleek business card. "He gave me whatever job I wanted!"

Jeanie grabbed the card and stared up at him perplexed. "Well, what did you get?"

"I said to pick any, I don't care!"

"Oh honey..." she whined, as she rolled over, squishing a pillow over her head as though she couldn’t bear to listen to him anymore.

"What? I’m being truthful!” John batted the pillow away, and pulled her back to face him, “I’ll call him tomorrow you’ll hear his voice and-"

He pulled the money Bruce had given him on his way out the door to help with the travel costs it took to get to Wayne tower. Likely an excuse so John didn’t refuse the hundred dollar notes being shoved in his palm. They were still crisp after being protected in John's pocket, showing up his crinkled suit.

Jeanie sat up then, shocked. "Where did you get this?"

"I just told you!" He growled out annoyed, "Why do you never believe me?"

She stared up at him and it seemed to be finally sinking in. "Either Bruce Wayne really is the kindest man in Gotham and the news are lying or..." 

"or what?" he quirked a brow, looking down at her.

"John if the police come knocking, I'm not dealing with them!"

He rolled his eyes letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he groaned frustrated. "They won't be, because what I'm saying really happened!" He sprung his head up to face her; she could really get under his nerves sometimes.

"Well, he’s nothing like the magazines say then..." she said, gazing away into the distance.

"They’re all lies anyways! Who trusts anything in magazines?" John laughed as he lied back on the bed, "corporate schmuck, and all that".

He put his finished plate on the bedside counter and then raised his arms up over his head and kicked his socks off with his toes as he rested propped up against the headboard. 

"Dear, I'm sorry for what I said. You know I’ll support you with whatever you're doing to get us out of this" Jeanie added, she did look sincere.

He smiled and nodded, “I’m telling you Jeanie I’m moving up in the world!"

"I knew that odd charm of yours would work on somebody" she teased.

John grinned. Not regretting holding back the truth of the bribe and how this all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:
> 
> Batman: The Killing Joke (Jeanie, Jokers natural hair and eye colour)
> 
> Batman: The Telltale Series (John Doe as Jokers name)


	2. Best Friends

John awoke to the dayspring light, feeling excited for the first time in a long time. He kicked off the duvet carelessly, with Jeanie having already gone to work. The time was somewhere around ten. Currently jobless, he had allowed himself to lie in bed later than usual. A luxury he hasn’t felt in years. However, it seemed no matter what time in the day it was, the room was still freezing and he forced himself to face the chill as he ambled into the bathroom.

He whistled a tune as he relieved himself and then took a hot shower to warm his blood. The pipes were rusty, and the showerhead only let out a meager blast of water, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He washed his chestnut hair and scrubbed behind his ears and under his long nails, making sure to cleanse all the grub and grime off of him.

Stepping out with a towel wrapped around his bony hips, he wiped the condensation from the mirror with a wet hand and brushed his teeth. John pulled a goofy smile at his reflection, making sure to scour every inch. Jeanie always said he had an award-winning smile. He used her hairdryer left tangled on the sink counter and plugged it into the wall to dry his hair with a comb. Afterward, he ran fingers slicked with pomade through his hair to style it, twiddling a couple of stray hairs around his finger to get it to hang over his forehead like how Bruce’s had.

From the outside, Bruce resembled one of those macho guys John had always envied since childhood; the type of guy who crammed nerds into lockers and tipped losers into bins with his crowd of followers for friends cheering him on. A guy who threw paper balls in class, trying to get a rise out of their victims just so they could justify socking them in the face at recess. John had been that victim.

However, it seemed the cantankerous man couldn't have possibly been Mr. popular, as he had the charm of a baseball bat. He ignored important social cues and forgot basic politeness when he was distracted. It was extremely unattractive, which probably explains why he’s turned to bribing people at bars. 

But yesterday, at the end of the evening with John he was somewhat courteous and gentleman-like with his actions, having escorted him out and forcing John to take money from him. John debated whether the over-tipping habit the man had was due to kindness or knowing it was a quick method to get on someone's good side. After all, a few hundred dollars is likely pocket change to him. 

It was strenuous to imagine Bruce behaving like the macho guy in his head. He felt like Bruce would consider himself above them. He had a sense that the man would much more likely want to leave the room than start a fight and if you didn't chase after him, you'd never see him again; a loner. 

Well, John never wanted to be a loner, and still, doesn't. He admired the way those macho guys lambasted others with such confidence and got the whole room laughing even though it was at the cost of someone's demise. Someone had to always be at the bud of the joke, after all, that's just basic comedy.

To be like them, John would first need to gain twenty pounds at least and get himself a million dollars to buy himself a new house, new clothes, and a new face. Hopefully, his upcoming job could make that all possible, but then he snickered at the idea of Jeanie leaving him as he had become no better than the rest, aiming for fame and obsessing over the artificial. She wouldn't be wrong.

He put on a worn suit from his and Jeanie’s shared closet, it was another usual shade of brown, nothing special. He sprayed himself with cologne that was running out and then ascended down the wooden downstairs, nearly slipping down them as he was wearing socks. He even decided to make himself a proper breakfast, he ate a bagel with butter on it, and then finally, he stuck his boots on and grabbed the rusty key from the kitchen counter. 

Not having a cell phone, John had to venture out of the house to find a payphone. Luckily it was only a five-minute walk to the nearest one. The weather was somewhat pleasant, still brisk, but nowhere near as harsh as it has been. He approached the payphone, sticking a dime in. He held Bruce's business card that was reflective and entrancing between his fingers. John treats it like it was made of gold. He had kept it safely tucked in his bedside drawer and then he had carefully transferred it to his wallet where he kept his photo of him and Jeanie. The card was the key to John's life getting back on track vs it going back to cataclysmic.

The man's handwriting wasn't anything too fancy, but it was still orderly and precise. John read the numbers carefully and dialed it. The line beeped for a while and after a couple of minutes suddenly, there was nothing. John groaned and tried again, guessing that the CEO of Wayne Enterprises is a very busy man and might not be able to answer right now. He couldn’t think of why else, as Bruce gave no hint of wanting to change his mind about their deal.

He buckled after the third attempt, deciding to give it a break and not wanting to waste any more dimes. He decided he could march his way to Wayne tower demanding the receptionist to speak to him but that seemed like a last resort.

Instead, he found himself strolling down the same path he had on that fateful night. He entered The Black Boars bar. It was mid-day, so it was nowhere near as busy as it was when he last came. He settled himself at the bar having bought a drink. He had dared himself to ask for a spritz just to try it and, unlike Bruce, didn't complain when he received it. Despite being unemployed, he felt like he could treat himself as he still had the money Bruce had generously given him after their encounter to spend.

He brought the glass to his lips, the red liquid vanishing between his lips. The drink was slightly bitter with a sweet hint of orange and a light tang of herbs. It tasted posh and nothing that John had ever tried before. He decided he just wasn't an alcohol kind of guy and would still much rather down something like a syrupy milkshake.

There was a shabby boxed shape television, balanced on a shelf in the corner of the bar, directly in John's line of sight. Glancing at it, that's when he realized Bruce, was currently at an event that was being broadcasted live on the Gotham main news channel. The reporter seemed to be waiting for a speech from Wayne himself about their announcements with the company and how Wayne Corp is getting involved in helping to deal with the current crime crisis in Gotham.

The barman was busy washing glasses in a sloppy sink and the other men in the bar were simply conversing to one another paying no mind, but John watched the screen like he was entranced. The woman journalist was wearing a dark dress and diamond earrings, blending in with the affluent snobs behind her. The cameras alternated to show who was attending and highlighted the crowd that had gathered inside the event, then it flickered back to her interviewing some influential person that might as well be a complete nobody to John.

From what he could gather, the event was being held at Gotham’s Museum of the arts. The interior was large and open, with colossal columns holding the structure up. For the occasion, long cardinal ribbons with rose bouquets were spread across the stone walls, with the theme being red and white. Everyone indoors was holding glasses of alcohol, delivered to them by waiters in silver suits and crimson bowties. Then whole interior had an artistic atmosphere to it.

Soon the announcement for the speech was signaled and the room applauded for the appearance of Bruce Wayne who strolled on to the stage. The tall man waved his hand in greeting and wore a wide white smile that John didn't know he was capable of. As he approached the stand, his face turned suddenly rather serious as he began to read off a script likely placed on the stand before him. Although he did manage to look up a few times, showing he had somewhat memorized it. John gave him an eight out of ten for performance, he could spice it up with a little dance or more surprises. Make it a bit more engaging for the audience.

Bruce was talking about building a new asylum for the criminally insane to solve Gotham's rise of untreated mental health which is the current cause of the increased rate of crime. Wayne has agreed to back the funding for building it and other big important commitments that went right over John's head. He was more distracted studying Bruce's extravagant suit, somber face, and cold eyes. The man somehow looked like he was on deaths door whilst also appearing incredibly polished. It made John laugh and he admired it.

Once the speech was over, he was received with generous applause and after a couple of moments had passed, John took the chance to try and call him again. He was excited at the possibility of Wayne answering the call whilst at the event. Skipping over to the payphone on the wall at the bar, he gave it his fourth shot.

The man answered this time.

“Bruce!” he gleamed in a high voice.

"John" the other rumbled.

"You’re on TV! I saw you on TV!" John chirped, bouncing on his feet excitedly as he held the phone to his ear. He felt like by talking to Bruce he was getting a taste of what it was like to be there. "They’re broadcasting you everywhere Bruce-"

"I know, where are you?"

"Uh, oh me? At the bar…" he drawled being brought back into the reality that was not him stood next to Bruce at a live event but one of him stuck in his usual hell hole of boring.

"Are you watching the TV now?"

"Uh..." he twisted his head round to catch it in the corner of his eyes, "Yeah".

In the crowd, Bruce gave a wave

"Bruce!" He waved back but then realized the other man could not see him and so he simply looked like an idiot trying to communicate with the TV. He uttered a curse, shut his eyes, and kicked himself mentally hoping nobody noticed.

"Did you see me wave?"

"Yep!"

John would love to be on television. He imagined himself doing something crazy to get all the cameras on him and be remembered forever in history, just for a blast! That’s probably why it’s best he’s not on TV...

"John? Hello, are you there?”

"Mhmm"

"I'm guessing you're phoning about the job. Meet me at my office at five; I’ll be back by then."

"Sure..."

"What was the time?"

John had got lost daydreaming again, imagining himself parading on as a special guest on Gotham’s late-night talk show. Bragging about the recent award he'd won for being TV's best entertainer and receiving thunderous applause for it.

"Oh uh..." he stammered.

"Five. I’ll see you then." Bruce hung up.

The beep of the dead phone line jolted John out of his daydream and he giggled. Placing the phone back down on its stand, he spun on his heel to watch the TV again. He saw that Bruce had joined the crowd of reporters and was answering interview questions with one hand in his pant pocket. He wore a grave face as he took his time carefully answering their questions, taking it all very seriously.

John waltzed out the door, excited to head his way down to meet Bruce again. He wanted to ask all about what it was like to perform and get up on stage. All those people clapping in approval, how awesome that must feel. He wondered if he could ask Bruce to get him a job in that field.

On his way down to Wayne Tower, John had gotten lost spending for a moment. With Bruce’s throw-away money he had given him, he decided to give in to his temptations on getting himself things he had never been able to afford before.

It started when he walked past this busty aged vending machine that was flashy and multicolored and had always attracted his attention on his way to work. Out of the options, there was a bottle of lime liquid and the label had a cute character face on it. John found himself spending the money for it, instead of going for the usual affordable water.

He gulped it down and it tasted heavenly! It was delectably sweet, and John pondered on what other flavors he was missing out on. He stopped by a bakery and purchased himself a pastry coated in cream and strawberries. He couldn't even finish it, with his slender frame and light stomach. But he got to have another delectable taste test.

Then he strolled past clothing stores and that was his biggest mistake. He didn’t want to concede, telling himself to wait till he officially got the job. But after taking one glimpse at a sleek byzantine shirt through the display window, which was littered in dark embroidery, he decided he had to have it.

Eventually, he entered Wayne tower with a cinnamon roll dangling between his teeth and equipped with a bag filled with self-indulgent gifts. John had arrived at five on the dot and had reached the receptionist slightly out of breath as he had dashed back to hastily acquire a hair product.

He was escorted through the lobby, as the receptionist had to her astonishment, found an appointment scheduled for John Doe at five. John noticed that everyone had retired home for the evening, and the building was pretty much empty and dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. He looked out at the view of the city behind the glass wall of the elevator as they made their way up to Bruce’s office. The sun had started to set, and the city gave off an ataractic vibe, but the view was futile at nulling his over excitement for seeing Bruce again.

Stepping out of the elevator and onto the familiar lush carpet, he glanced up to eye Bruce Wayne in his office. The double doors were left wide open as before.

"Hey Bruce!" John hollered, waving down the corridor as they approached. It caught the receptionist by surprise, and she flinched away from him, but it brought a grin to Bruce’s face as he was stood shuffling papers on his desk.

John darted up to him, his feet moving quicker than his mind could think.

"I challenge you to... wait for it..." he couldn’t hold back his giggling as he bent his knees.

Then he sprung up and stuck a challenging finger in front of the businessman's face, "Buffy’s steak house, all you can eat!" He had seen the advertisement on his way here and thought it would be a perfect way for him and Bruce to bond and become closer pals. Maybe even inseparable... 

Bruce scoffed, stepping around his pointed finger and sauntered over to the opposing side of his desk. "John, I told you I can’t be seen out and about town like that. That time was a one-off... remember?" he said under hushed breath, and a brisk glance.

"Oh right yeah, sorry" John mumbled bashfully, rubbing the back of his head embarrassed.

"Thanks, Dina. You can head off now"

She nodded "good night Mr. Wayne have a safe evening."

John turned back to Bruce with a wide smirk. "Well, then where do you go to eat?" He currently had so much energy, and he wanted to spend it all on the man before him.

"Think of the most expensive place in Gotham and that’s where..." the man drawled, sinking into that large luscious chair.

"Mhmm... Ice Lounge? Damansara? The Rouillard Plaza?"

"So, you do know Gotham" Bruce smiled, pleased.

John rolled his eyes, "of course I know Gotham, it’s my hometown. I don’t think I’ve ever been outside of it." 

"Well, maybe you can work on earning towards a holiday."

"Oooh!" John's eyes gleamed at that. "I could go on some crazy adventure! I might get lost and never return… a mystery that is forever unsolved!” He laughed as he waved his hands out before him.

"No, I’d find you" Bruce reassured, eyeing his monitor.

"You would? Bruce Wayne, a billionaire, sends a hundred planes across the sky in search! Planes then also mysteriously go missing..."

"Your head is a marvel" Bruce scoffed, looking up at him with a chuckle; fingers rubbing against his chin.

"Lucky you found me then, you could have been missing out on all this" he swayed a finger at the man, knowing he was unleashing his quirky side. 

"I'm worried about what I'm committing to by giving you this job…" Bruce grumbled.

"Aw, come on Bruce! You’ve survived so far; just see me as a risk that if it all goes wrong at least it was entertaining!"

"You have sold me, John. Your expertise in haggling has once again blown me away" Bruce smirked with a snicker.

"Yes!” John clapped his hands together in elation, “What’s the job? Come on lay it on me" 

"Well, I thought about making you head CEO, but the board didn't agree so the next best thing is the CEO's PA..." Bruce snarked, standing and leaning over his desk to turn off his computer for the night. He brushed Johns shoulder as moved past him and away from his desk. The man’s cologne was distinctive and the musk of it stuck to the inside of his nose.

"Oh PA! Uh... what’s a PA?" John quirked a brow, stumped and turning around to face him.

"I tell you to do things and you do them. Sound simple enough?" Bruce quipped, finishing the last of the alcohol from a shot glass. He placed it back on the stand, exhaling a hiss from the burn of it.

"Aye captain!" John saluted, “I’ve always been the ordered around kind of guy. You couldn’t have picked a better man" 

"With no complaints, I’m hoping" The man made his move to leave the office for the night. He had very broad shoulders and the back of him was all painted black, with his jet suit and ebony hair, giving him a shadowy aura.

"You won’t hear a peep!" He mimed zipping his mouth shut and following after him. He then frowned abruptly, "Unless it’s anything to do with water..."

"What?" 

"I am not going deep-sea diving is all I’m saying that stuff terrifies me!”

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Alright, well tomorrow meet with Dina she’ll show you around-"

"Aw what, I don’t get to hang with you?" John whined, he thought they could become closer friends by working alongside each other. As they walked, John noticed they had identical postures, left hands in their pant pockets and right legs protruding out at the same time as they stepped forward.

"A little bit but you can’t be doing things by my side, that’s the point. Its stuff I can’t do." 

"Oh! True, I suppose that makes sense."

Bruce scoffed, "You wanted the job. I offered you a retirement fund, but you rejected it. You could be living off somewhere in Beverly hills right now. Sure, you don’t want to change your mind?"

"Are you kidding? Working for Wayne Enterprises is about the best thing for my rep right now! If only people could see me now…" he breamed, with a wide grin. "Thank god my stupidity got you talking to me at that bar".

"Well, actually it was that and your looks..." Bruce admitted, glancing to him.

"Oh" John stuttered lost for words; he’s never heard that before. "Well, that’s a first!" He burst out, laughing wildly.

"Yeah, nice hair by the way" Bruce added, jabbing a finger at his dark locks as they made it inside the elevator.

John swallowed still aware of his Jeanie back home, but he had to be honest Bruce's compliments were nice and flattering to his ego and his incredibly low self-esteem.

“So, with the salary, how much are we talking?” 

“Oh my god, John you’ve done it! You’ve done it!” Jeanie squealed, lunging forward and wrapping her arms around his neck after hearing the monumental news. 

When Bruce had told him the salary his mouth had dropped to the floor and he had nearly fainted. The businessman had to hold him up by the shoulder on the way down in the elevator to stop himself from swaying like a pendulum. 

John was taken by surprise as she engulfed him; Jeanie then pulled back and claimed his lips. He noticed her skin was soft compared to his. As they parted she peeked up at him, fingers embedded in his hair.

“D-do you want…”

“What? No! If anything, I’m tired!” John fretted, pulling away, red in the face and embarrassed.

“Phew, because I’ve been hiding how much weight I’ve gained…” she mumbled, running fingers through her hair.

Laughing, John popped the bottle of champagne that exploded carelessly over the living room carpet. The old thing was coming up at the seams anyway. John had brought home a whole banquet after hearing the large sum he’d be earning.

“John!” Jeanie scolded, making him laugh harder.

“What? We’re leaving anyway!”

“That’s true…” she paused and then turned to the old battered couch and booted it “I hated this couch! Fuck you couch!”

Now it was his turn to rebuke, “Woah Jeanie!” he grabbed her and pulled her back shocked at her sudden outburst.

“I-I’m sorry I just… it’s been so hard pretending that I could stand this place!”

John raised both his brows, “Hey! This place hasn’t been all bad-“

As though hearing the words, the blankets being used for curtains fell down, knocking the lampshade over with it in a crash. Oh…

“John… I won’t lie…” she breathed with a worried expression, placing delicate hands on his shoulders, “I thought you were delusional! I-I nearly called the authorities! Everyone at work said to do so…”

“Everyone at work?” His eyes went wide in bewilderment.

“But it’s true! You’re actually making sense for once!” She cried, shaking his shoulders in relief, “I believe you and I-I hope to one day thank Mr. Wayne myself for being so considerate with our situation…” she looked off in the distance, clutching her hands to her chest with rosy cheeks like she just met her crush.

“Don’t start dreaming about him…” John frowned, eyeballing her swooning look, “The guys kind of touchy. He’s so miserable Jeanie, you should see him…”

“Oh, well I guess the stereotypes true then; that Rich and famous people are like that …” she sighed, sinking down to sit on the matted gray rug and pick at the snacks off the coffee table.

“Why’s that?” John darted a quizzical look down at her.

“Well, in the movies it’s because they haven’t got anyone like me and you”

“Ha! That makes sense…” He drunk out the Champaign bottle and then started to laugh. “Because me and you, we stick together through thick and thin right?”

“I’m surprised as he is very attractive…” Jeanie uttered, ignoring him.

“Jeanie!” John exclaimed, annoyed.

“Oops did I say that out loud…” she covered her mouth flustered.

John sighed and roamed his eyes over the table. Next he picked up a spoon, a fork and the towel off the table and then spun around showing his back. Turning back around he held the towel out in front of him, both hands on either corner of the cloth, then a spoon appeared miraculously floating up in the middle.

Jeanie laughed wildly applauding, “Oh honey, you always have a trick up your sleeve!”

John chuckled, throwing aside the towel to reveal the tail end of the spoon attached to the fork that he was using to maneuver it.

She giggled; “alright… you’ve won me over again”

John blushed, sitting down to lean into her open arms.

“Is it bad that I find today happier than our wedding day…?”

“You know what, that’s completely understandable…”

“I’m starting to believe God exists- should we start going to church?”

John scoffed sitting up abruptly to face her, “Jeeze, I thought I’d be the one to worry about changing but it hasn’t even been a day yet and you already are!”

She smiled sweeping the strands of hairs off his forehead, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop… never change John”

The next day Jeanie was applying makeup under his eyes, to make him look his best. He admired her efforts in the mirror and quirked a brow at how his dark circles had been removed. This stuff worked like a charm, he wondered how else it could improve his appearance.

“John, go on hurry!” she encouraged, over worrying for no reason at all. He was ready perfectly on time. He stepped out the door and then froze in the doorway.

“Stop goofing around!” she scolded, shaking his arm to snap him out of it making him laugh.

Arriving at Wayne tower, he met with the receptionist Dina who recognized him and ordered him to trail behind her as she led him to whatever awaited him. Meeting with Dina was a chore, she was nothing like Bruce. No fun to poke and play with and reminded him of all the old co-workers he used to work with at the factory. He just knew it was only a matter of time before she disliked him. Oh well, he’d get through it, it can’t be any worse than what he’s gone through before.

He could tell that she was totally surprised he was working here and he sure as hell bet that she had double confirmed it with the CEO himself. He could tell because it wasn’t like she was overly enthusiastic about showing him around the place and meeting the team. He was taken up to one of the top floors, to be shown his desk where he’d work. 

Arriving on the floor, John had to take a minute to stop and breathe it all in. The office theme was charcoal to match the rest of the building. Fake candle-lit chandeliers dangled around the room. There was flooring like a chessboard on one half of the room and black sleek wood on the other, reflecting orange rays of light from the lights above them.

The desks were all made from dark varnished oak with comfy curved leather chairs positioned under each one. People were typing away at computers around them as they passed. Small green plants decorated the room, giving it a sparkle of life.

The view of Gotham was clear through the gigantic window that filled the back wall and to top it all off, there were some black leather couches with velvet pillows around the edges of the room making the place feel homely. The interior looked more like a deluxe restaurant than a place of work. He didn’t know life could be this good and made him think Ace Chemicals almost purposely went out their way to make workers miserable. 

Dina escorted him to his desk and pointed to the phone and explained how to use it and did the same with the computer. To be honest, John hadn’t even known how to turn it on. She left him alone for a bit and he sat down and swiveled in the comfy leather chair. He always struggled to sit still for long periods and so he was glad that Dina had told him that being a PA requires a lot of moving around. 

He couldn’t wait to get doing things! John crossed his legs, rubbing sharp new polished shoes against each other, and placed the tail end of a ball-point pen to his chin and pondered. He felt fancy, and he was going to put all he could into this job in order not to lose it.

There was no training day as it seemed there wasn’t any PA before him that worked for Bruce. But there were other assistants for other high members of the board who could guide him and give him tips. They had approached him, after being asked to show him the ropes as best they could. That resulted in them complaining to him about the job overall and John found that they were much cooler than Dina. They had ended up inviting him to sit on one of the comfy leather couches in the corner of the room as they were currently on their break.

“Ugh one time I had to escort his ‘date’ out, lying to her that he was busy with work when in reality he had passed out after vomiting on himself” one woman scoffed, referring to the board member she assisted.

“Oh, and that time when I arranged that meeting with the city council for him to fudge it all up by reading the wrong speech, how stupid do you have to be?” Another one of the woman chimed in with her own experience.

John nodded listening to them, hands between his legs and leaning forward giving them his full attention. Working with men at the factory was a whole different experience to hanging out with these women at an office. He admired their reassuring and much more welcoming attitude. They were modest and searched to relate with him rather than compete and compare egos. They had polished hair just as the gentleman did, tied up in sharp buns or elegantly curled around their faces, and wore sharp blazer suits with tight skirts and tall heels. 

Their makeup was pristine and admirably well done; John studied their eyeliner and how it gave them cat eyes. Maybe he could ask Jeanie to show him how it’s done. With his gentle persona, and not having said anything weird yet he was getting along with them quite well. He wished they ran the whole building.

“Oh, and while they get to party and indulge, don’t expect to be getting a taste… you've got to sit on the side-lines”

“John you’re going to have one hell of a time. See things you don’t want to see. Put me off any businessman for good”

John laughed hysterically at all their stories, imagining Bruce caught with his pants down passed out drunk at a party. He didn’t mind the sound of all this, but he could understand why the ladies were annoyed by it all.

Returning to his desk, he found Dina had left him a document with a list of things to do. This list seemed like one filled with basic chores: Get a bouquet of roses for receptionist Rosemary in thanks, a bottle of ‘screaming eagle’ for chief of police for a trade, think of a gift for Mayor James in apology, think of a gift to thank asylum staff …

The mayor and chief of police? The powerful connections Bruce had were astonishing. John laughed at the ‘think of gift’ line. It seemed part of the Job was doing this trivial thinking for Bruce. There was a leather pouch on top of the document that John picked up and inspected. He pulled out a credit card. Woah, he better not let anyone get a hold of this. He tucked it safely away in his wallet and swore to himself to not accidentally use it for his own needs.

John hastily put on his coat and trekked his way to Gotham’s mall that was a nearby walk from Wayne tower. Running around, he found himself getting to know the shops quite well. Having never met these people himself, John was confused about how he was supposed to think of a better gift than Bruce for the city mayor. But Jeanie always complimented him for his unique and creative ideas. He’ll hope for the best.

Speed walking and nabbing taxis got him efficiently to his destinations. The document having listed their names and addresses as well as recommended time to visit them, stuff he was soon expected to figure out for himself.

“Delivery from Bruce Wayne!” John exclaimed, placing a lustrous bag on top of the chief of police’s desk in a thump.

The commissioner scowled at his over-chirpy mood. It looked like chaos in the GCPD, a million phones roaring and staff conversing on helplines. Officers were flying around the room like bees, scanning documents and trading files.

“Well, it’s nice to see he kept his promise, ah he knows me well.” The chief said, pulling out the fancy bottle of wine from the bag John had placed on the counter between them. “Alright here’s the bloody file…” The officer handed John a brown file, filled to the brim with documents, and the words 'confidential' were stamped on the front in red. “You signed the NDA, did you not?”

John didn’t know what that meant but nodded his head. “Yes!”

He snatched it and then continued his journey on ticking off the rest of the things to do on the list. He visited the construction site that had nearly completed building the mammoth white asylum. The builders were busy installing tall iron spiked tipped gates, likely pointy so no one could ever get out. John laughed at the thought of someone in a nightgown being impaled on them. Then he realized that wasn't funny at all and kicked himself. He turned up at the gate and spoke to the builders.

“Anyone inside?”

“Yeah, take a left to get into the building” a worker huffed.

He went in looking round the place, to then lock eyes with a woman at the reception. “Here you go doll,” John winked, approaching her and placing the items on the glistening ivory counter.

“Oh, well thank you, sweetheart! From Mr. Wayne I presume?” she smiled, warm and affectionate. Her glasses hung off the end of her nose with beads dangling off the sides and looping around her neck.

“Yep!” John nodded; he had got her a simple bouquet with some crazy colored chocolates that he would want someone to get him.

John peered down the ghostly pale hallway. “Any crazies locked up in here yet?”

“Oh no, and we don’t call them that,” she reassured, in a light tone.

“Right...” John laughed. “Doc I got a problem!” 

“What is it?”

”It’s weird I- I keep losing my memory!”

“Oh dear, when did this start?” 

“Doc I got a problem!” John burst out laughing.

“Oh” she chortled, “well aren't you a delight!”

“Yeah, I’m trying to keep up the positive attitude. It’s my first day on the job you see, and it’s all a bit nerve-wracking”

“You’re doing just fine dear; you keep up the great work.”

“Thanks, you too! I’ll tell Bruce you said hi” 

The day ended with a rather important meeting with the mayor and it was an endeavor to get a hold of him. John strode into Gotham City Hall, asking to deliver the goods only to then be interrogated by the security for evidence of employment with Wayne. He was then groped and felt up for weapons. With John being ticklish, he couldn’t hold back his giggles, making the security not want to be any nicer to him.

Lounging in the waiting room for what felt like forever, John was finally escorted into the mayor’s office. Only to tell him the disappointing news that Wayne couldn’t meet with him today. That’s what the document had told him to do, and then pass him a gift in condolences. John had got him a confetti cannon.

The mayor smoked a thick cigar and was short, fat, and old. He reminded John of a man in his nightmares that he couldn’t quite place a finger on.

“Wayne isn’t coming? He said he would, why can’t he? I booked time off for this”

“Uh...” to be honest he didn’t know why Bruce couldn’t.

“Tell him I don’t want his poncy gifts I want him here!”

“You think I’m capable of that? That man's like getting a brick wall to move!” 

“Yeah? Well knock him down if you have to”

“Do you have a weapon of choice?” John quirked a brow with a smirk.

The man laughed, “I don’t care what you use, just knock some sense into that bastard.”

He then stuck out his cigar in an ashtray and turned to him with a snarl. “You tell him if I receive another one of his poncy gifts, he’ll end up like his parents.”

Jeeze, John's eyes went wide at the threat. 

“Matters need to be taken into our own hands with that vigilante flying about! We're a step away from chaos!” He snapped and with a wave, John was shoved out the door by security.

“Master Bruce, this is no way to be spending your hours during the day. Batman is only a part of your life not all of it. You have other responsibilities.” 

Bruce was irked by Alfred’s words; the butler always knew what to say to snap him out of his denial. Why he still bothered to keep up the Bruce Wayne façade, he didn’t know. But it was somewhat useful to the Batman’s aid. It got him the gadgets and the latest ware for his usage without anyone discovering about it. Luscious Fox was the one exception, a rare man he had learned to trust and yet still technically didn’t. He kept background checks on him constantly and Luscious was insulted when he had discovered them. Smarter than Bruce, he wasn’t easily deceived.

“Aren’t you supposed to be attending a meeting this afternoon with the mayor?” Alfred continued sticking pins in him with his words.

The dapper man was tidying up the equipment that Bruce had negligently tossed aside last night. He had come home too drained and lethargic to care. 

“Uh yeah, just a minute,” Bruce muttered, distracted on the bat computer.

“Al look, the criminals-“ he turned to find the man had gone.

Bruce stepped out his chauffer looking sharp again as he arrived at Wayne Tower. Alfred was right he still had responsibilities and it doesn’t look favorable with the CEO randomly vanishing in the day and never returning without any explanation. There’s only so many times he can tell Dina it’s a family emergency or he’s had an unexpected call.

He arrived at his office to find the very quirky man of his dreams waiting for him. John stood tall with his hands in his pockets, back facing him, gazing out the window and eyeing the view that Bruce had studied a thousand times.

Bruce tried to look sharp, but he never managed to look quite as sharp as John. That man looked appetizing no matter what he was wearing. He thought the man was astonishingly handsome; his irrationality at the bar proved that. 

John had a slender jaw with arched dagger eyebrows that emphasized his quirky expressions. His angular face was goofy with how he behaved, but if he stood still for once and kept his damn mouth shut, he’d have the best profile he’s ever seen with his pointed chin and protruding cheekbones. Bruce also had a constant craving to run his hands through the man’s lusciously styled hair; he wanted to know if it felt as soft as it looked. 

More than that, he beloved John’s character and admired how the man kept such happiness during tough times, a valuable lesson and attitude Bruce has never managed to master.

When he had told Alfred about him and his unique personality Alfred told him to be more like that, it stung harder than a blade. He hated how Alfred put such ridiculously high expectations on him. Depression filled his life no matter how many people tried to brighten his day and haul him out of it. It was a waste of time and energy for everyone and Bruce accepted it as a way of life.

“John, how’d it all go?” he clapped his hands together as he strode through the door way, snapping the man out from his daydreaming as he turned to face him.

“Great till the end! The mayor… he as a bone to pick with you” The man’s voice was low for once, and he wondered how much lower it could go.

“Oh,” Bruce hated that man. He’s so glad he didn’t have to deal with him. Bruce sunk down at his desk and John ambled over to stand by his shoulder.

“He said I needed to take you out!” John cried, wrapping his hands in the air pretending to strangle it. “Why couldn’t you meet with him? I didn’t know what to say!”

“He wants long discussions and currently I haven’t got time…”

“Time? Where have you been all day fancy pants? Dina didn’t have a clue when I asked her” 

“Family emergency?” Bruce tried, he found it hard to lie to John for some reason and his tone slipped.

“That’s a lame excuse, Bruce ...” 

Bruce scoffed.

“Look I get it; you’re not a social butterfly”

Bruce laughed at John’s accuracy, was he really that easy to read?

“Yeah, that’s it” he huffed flatly.

“Alright, well you’re not going to improve unless you try. We’re all struggling out here” The man’s tone sounded like one of concern.

He knew John was right and he wasn’t going to dare tell the man that’s easier to say than do. Not when John’s lived the life he’s had. But he wasn’t the first to say this to him, Alfred being the reigning champion in this department.

The idea of breaking his social habits was just inconceivable to Bruce. The thought of it too painful and he already had enough agony in his life. It was another challenge that he didn’t’ have the fortitude to take on. 

However, Bruce’s heart sunk at seeing how John's meeting with the mayor had negatively impacted his mood, taking away his usual flair. He wasn’t used to seeing him so down in the dumps and he was responsible for it. 

“How can I make up for it?” Bruce inquired, peering up at John from his monitor. He didn’t realize the mayor would be so furious. He won’t bother next time. 

John looked exhausted and he let out a yawn as he stretched. Bruce skirted his eyes away as his shirt lifted up from his waistband. John then crossed his arms with a sigh, “what are you offering?” 

“Take a day off, tomorrow, how about that?”

John frowned, then got that goofy look on his face when he was about to say something stupid. “Let’s hang out!”

Not this again. Bruce found it hard to keep their relationship professional as it was, his stomach still getting butterflies like a schoolgirl when he saw him. It seems his crush for this strange man was staying persistent and clouding Bruce’s thoughts to think rationally around him.

“How about I’ll give you your wage early and you go shopping by yourself…” he suggested. 

“Trips aren’t any fun on your own! I don’t have anyone since leaving that last job. I left on awkward terms,” the man mumbled, glancing away.

“What about your co-workers here?” Bruce had no clue whether the man had made any new friends or not, but he was trying to find any excuse. 

“Give me one good reason why you can’t come out with me”

“What if we get lost and mysteriously go missing?” Bruce teased, buying time as he felt nervous and pressured at how he was supposed to get out of this.

“BRUCE!” John didn’t find his teasing funny and slammed his hands on the table making him jolt. Woah.

“Come on! Let’s hang out, and dare I say it… become friends?” the man continued, calmer.

Bruce studied the other and pondered on the idea, finger to his cheek. He hasn’t gone for a night or day out with anyone. He avoided all social encounters when he could and any invitations he got he would simply never turn up to them as John had found out with the mayor. There was something about rejecting John though that nagged him. He would feel guilty. It was like the man was sticking a limb out for him to grab on to and he was cutting it off. 

Surely John wasn’t relying too much on Bruce to accept. He must have better things to do. He swallowed hard, weighing up the pros and cons of rejecting him, he glanced to the door. 

“It was a stupid offer, forget it,” John said spinning around on his heel to leave the office.

“No, I’ll come, just give me five,” Bruce caved in, the words coming out his mouth like he was hearing it from someone else. 

John turned with a colossal grin plastered on his face and exploded in excitement as he jumped up and down like a kid. 

“I knew you’d break!” he howled.

Bruce may not appear like it, but he needed five minutes because his heart was suddenly pounding out his chest at the idea of spending an afternoon out with someone. God, he struggled to think when he had last spoken to someone for more than ten minutes other than Alfred. He groaned internally.

After his parents were shot before his eyes, he grew an appalling attitude and became an abhorrent socializer. An event he was still today rolling over in his mind. Trying to salvage his reputation, Bruce was homeschooled instead to stay out of trouble and it remained that way thanks to Alfred. Then he grew up, bought a degree, and went off and traveled the world for seven years where he immersed himself in the criminal underworld. Finally ending up in Bhutan Prison, where he joined the League of shadows and became the crime fighting vigilante Batman.

He didn’t do this.

If worse comes to worst and he completely fails, and John doesn’t want to speak to him ever again then at least Bruce could stop giving his hopes up on the man genuinely liking him. He knew it was only a matter of time before John realizes Bruce is a whole lot more hassle than he’s worth. The Bruce Wayne facade is an effort to keep up, and so far, he’s kept it going strong. But the more they converse, the more likely Bruce is going to slip up and say something unforgivable.

From the outside he behaved nonchalant to John’s behavior, but within Bruce craved to be closer. However, he felt destined to fail at such a task and so he was terrified to risk it.

“Alright well, I’ll see you in the lobby. Just let me go get my coat” Bruce ushered, trying to buy more time to re-compose himself.

“Don’t bail on me” John winked, turning his back with a wave of his hand as he wandered off.

That man walked elegantly like a cat when he wanted to, he had a swagger air to him when he was confident and excited. A completely different posture to when he’s nervous like the day he first met him at his office.

Bruce collected his papers and organized his desk, dull tasks that wasted away his brain as he pondered on how he was going to get through this. He still had important matters to figure out, such as Gotham’s crime crisis, curing the insane, and how to keep the GCPD off Batman’s tail. But now he puts all that aside too as he collects his long coat and scarf and walks down the hall to meet John at the front lobby to have an afternoon out to themselves. Whatever that involves.

He met John at the entrance who was still just as giddy and thrilled to hang out together as when he last saw him. Bruce groaned at the thought of not being able to live up to this man’s expectations. 

“You’re Mr. Dark and Mysterious in that coat” John chuckled, wiggling his brows.

They stepped out onto the bustling street, eyeing busy roads filled with honking taxis. Bruce was still in disbelief on how he had completely committed to one and one conversation for the chance of a friend he always told Alfred he never wanted, and for the high probability of messing it all up. He hoped his downfall will at least be graceful.

With it being a work day, everyone passing them was in suits and coats with brief cases and hats.

“So how’s business?” John chirped, as they began trekking down the street. Bruce just followed the other man’s lead, letting him take the wheel as he had no clue how. 

There was a bitter chill in Gotham right now preserving the left-over snow but both of them were equipped for the weather. Well, maybe not so much for John, as he didn’t have any gloves, but he didn’t seem to care acting nonchalant to it.

“People are going to recognize me” Bruce drawled, not as though they weren’t already. As soon as he had stepped out of his own damn building people’s heads had turned. He hoped no one he’s been avoiding at work spots him. That would be the cherry on top to this distressing situation.

John shrugged, “just blank them like you usually do”

“What?”

“Nothing-”

“You need gloves” he jabbed at the man’s pasty hands tucked in his coat pockets.

John laughed, “I do, don’t I?”

“Oh, and its fine…” he added, answering John’s question.

Bruce knew he sucked at making conversation, but he had a million things on his mind, all of them being how he was going to accidentally sabotage this. So, he couldn’t help but say the first thing that came to mind. 

Across the street he noticed a man, who looked rather like John on his first day meeting him at the bar aside from his facial features, being arrested. It made him wonder how close the man had been to that before he met him and what he would do if John ever ended up in that situation. Would Batman save him?

“Earth to Bruce”

“What”

“Fine, is that it? CEO of Wayne Corp has nothing exciting to say about the news and the world? “

“Where are we even heading?” he stopped abruptly, the mystery of it scaring him.

“To the plaza” John shrugged. “God, is this what it’s like being with you, just constant anxiety?”

Bruce bit his tongue as the man laughed.

“Come on, lighten up! You’re not going to die. Pinkie promise” John punched his arm. “Ow, you got some guns Bruce!” He scoffed, bringing his hand to his chest and feigning to rub it better. They continued walking.

Bruce pondered on John's original question deeper. The few things that stood out at work were when Dr. Richmond had said treatment for the insane was a futile effort and when Bruce had spotted a gargoyle pointing at his desk on the opposing wall of a building through his window. It had an odd expression of pain and agony that he had never seen before and was unusual compared to the other ones around the city.

He decided to speak about the latter. 

“Oh, the scary one outside your window? Yeah, I saw him. Big frowny face. I wonder what’s got his life so bogged, probably from watching you work all day and wasting away!” John laughed.

“Yeah probably, I like the gargoyles in Gotham and was thinking of adding them to the Wayne tower” 

“You could build one opposing him, smiling back!”

“Good idea” 

Bruce found himself halting to a stop again when the plaza came into view, suddenly growing anxious. 

“Do we have to go into town?” Bruce grit out, he was terrified of socializing any more than he currently was. John was enough and he didn’t get why they couldn’t just go and sit in a secluded area, like at a park or something. He didn’t mind making small talk with the man as much as he thought.

“You said you’d make it up to me, this is you doing that, remember?” John quirked one of those dagger brows at him.

“Right…” Bruce swallowed, as he continued walking with John beside him. Noticing he was tense, it seemed John took a gamble at completely changing the topic of conversation to hopefully something that distracted his mind.

“You know, I saw some guy banging his head against a wall the other day”

“That’s lunacy, you should report that in. I’ve been studying all about it, it isn’t good” Bruce warned rather seriously. It was true, right now his life was reading up on all sorts of stories and documents on the criminally insane.

“Oh, well, I have delusions sometimes.” 

Bruce’s heart dropped, oh no, this was just his luck. 

“Really, what do you see?” he furrowed his brows, keeping his cool. 

“Jelly babies when I’m hungry, waterfalls when I’m thirsty, oh and one time I swear I saw a mysterious flying object in the sky, like a UFO!”

“I think everyone experiences those things John…” Bruce huffed mollified; this man somehow finds a way to keep giving him a heart attack every five minutes.

“Well, that makes me feel better” John chuckled, watching his feet indent the snow. 

Bruce talked to paintings on the walls in the manor and hears them talk back to him, but he wasn’t going to bring that up. Not unless he wanted John to run a million miles from him.

“Well, I say we throw all the crazies into the asylum, set up some CCTV, then make a great reality TV show! Where everyone can watch them do crazy things live. Then, give them some of the shares, and everyone’s happy”

“No offense, but that’s stupid,” Bruce said flatly.

John laughed wildly, "Got any better ideas? You haven’t lived at the bottom; you wouldn’t know how to fix it!” 

Bruce frowned, “I could think of a few suggestions”

“No, you couldn’t. I’m telling you, I’ve got a list of reason why curing lunatics is a waste of time” 

“Well tell me them and I’ll debunk all your points”

“Fine with me partner! Just let me get some sugar”

John rubbed his hands together in anticipation at the thought. It seemed the man hadn’t been taking the conversation as seriously as Bruce, any tension simply rolling off him.

They ended up walking through the plaza, having traveled at least a mile from Wayne tower and they walked through the revolving glass doors into the mall. Bruce thinking at first, that they were going to go through it separately, but John ran in and squashed himself next to him laughing at the idea of standing still and keeping them both trapped. A concept that made Bruce’s face go red and flustered, luckily John doesn’t notice or had the mercy not to point it out.

The interior of the mall was extravagant and it was one of the few buildings in Gotham that showed up Wayne Tower. The floors and ceilings shone white, made out of plastic-coated marble. It seemed like there were trillions of lights littered around the place like stars and their reflection on the floor created something like an optical illusion. 

There was deafening noise near and far, ranging from window-shoppers browsing to advertisements playing on digital billboards and trendy music resounding out of store openings. With them being on the ground floor, a simple glance up made you see all the multiple floors duplicated above which were adorned with glass barriers.

They made their way to a Café that Bruce always favored. He had immediately spotted it and felt like somewhere familiar would calm his nerves. It had an indoor and outdoor seating area in the main lobby of the mall. 

Entering inside, the smell of coffee beans was potent and there was a short queue. The interior was a completely oak theme and it certainly was a wealthy person’s stop-off point with the prices being high. They sold ice cream, revealing all the options through a glass window beside the counter.

“Woah! Do they just make every color in the rainbow now?” John wailed giddily. When excited, he seems to forget his indoor voice and practically hollered it across the room.

“I’ll get you one if you stop making the whole room stare at us” Bruce gritted out under his breath, anxiously eyeing the people glaring.

“Oh, that’s a big mistake getting me ice cream! It does something to me…” John growled out the last line low in his throat, doing something to Bruce that he didn’t want to admit. 

When they got to the till John jumped forward, literally, to take charge with a wild burst of energy that Bruce couldn’t comprehend. The man appeared to have no humility in these situations.

“A chocolate and cookie swirl milkshake with two cups of mint ice cream… with strawberries on top and ... oh and some of that rainbow sauce! Bruce what are you having?” He looked to him, weighing a slender finger on his lips. 

“Coffee”

“No no! Try the white vanilla ice cream, it sounds posh!” John encouraged, tapping at the glass display.

“Coffee” Bruce reaffirmed, this time huffing it to the till worker as he swiped his card to pay.

“Here you are Mr. Wayne” the young girl gushed, smiling as she placed their order on the counter. “Have a nice day!” 

Bruce seized both their refreshments off the counter and then strutted away frowning; not even acknowledging she’d said anything at all. He’s always hated the triviality of it and he’s not going to pretend he cares, it was too strenuous.

“Thanks dear!” John soothed, matching her smile back and taking the two cups of ice-cream, licking one of them, “Mhm yummy”.

They had chosen a table in the outside seating area of the café. Bruce liked the openness surrounding them as it made him feel like he was less trapped. He sipped his coffee leaning over the surface as he watched John uniquely eat his ice-cream, it seemed the man couldn’t help but get it all over his face. He was very strange.

“What do you think about the vigilante?”

“He’s the best thing in Gotham right now,” Bruce stated flatly.

“Oooh someone’s changed teams” John cooed.

“What? No, I haven’t.”

“You were the one hating him before!”

He had? Bruce forgets who he’s pulled that tactic on to put their minds off thinking he’s the caped crusader. John scraped the bottom of the ice-cream pot, making sure to get every last bit. His tongue was stained red from the food coloring in the sauce. 

“What do you think of him?” Bruce diverted the conversation back to John.

“Well other than envy not much… Let’s hope he sticks around, stuff like that never lasts long in Gotham.” John licked the ice-cream from the end of his spoon and dumped it down on the table. He then went to take a long sip from his milkshake, making a loud slurp sound.

“Why, because we eventually all become hopeless?”

“No, because he’s going to get killed,” John laughed. “I’m surprised the military haven’t swept in and taken him out” 

“Well, the commissioner is taking a liking to him” Bruce mumbled more to himself.

“Good for him, I’d want a free pass to robbing banks too.”

Bruce scoffed, “he doesn’t rob banks he does good.”

“Mhm, well then a pass on beating people then.”

“He beats criminals.” 

“Whatever!” John groaned, “A pass to fly over rooftops”

Okay, Bruce couldn’t fault him on that one.

“You know, his cape must get stuck on a lot of things…”

Yeah it does, Bruce thought. “The insane asylums also going to help…”

“You would know you’re building it; I recommend locking them all up and throwing away the key. Once you go mad you aren’t coming back”

“How would you know?” Bruce scowled at him.

John shrugged “I wouldn’t, but I’ve been close. Don’t you feel it sometimes slipping? You keep dangling on by the ends of your fingertips, because you know if you fall, you won’t be getting back up again… madness is the emergency exit after all”

Bruce was bewildered, “you’re oddly pessimistic for someone with a bright attitude.” 

“I’m just real” John shrugged, with a chuckle. “Why does it hit a nerve?”

It did, but Bruce would never admit that. “I just don’t agree with that view at all. There’s eventually a cure for everything.” 

“Yeah, you got me there. But how long do you think that will be?”

“It will come, and we’ll be glad we didn’t kill all of them off.”

“Think of all the lives you could have saved in the meantime though.”

Bruce found himself crunching his coffee cup in a tight fist, making the left-over liquid spill onto his hand. 

“Woah! Tight grip there” John laughed.

“Sometimes sacrifices are worth stopping the cycle completely,” Bruce calmly reasoned, wiping his hands clean with a napkin. The liquid stinging his cut knuckles from beating said criminals last night.

“I guess... ahah-”

“What?”

“aha It's just…” John laughed into his shoulder, “aha no I can’t say it”

“Say what?”

“The vigilante, wouldn’t it be ironic if he was just one of them too? Ahaha!”

Bruce frowned unamused. 

John leaned back in his chair, placing one elegant leg over the other, his knee pressed against the edge of the table. “Listen, you’re trying to fix world problems and I admire that. You got the money bags to do so, so good for you. No wonder you haven’t got time for a trip to the mall…” he sighed, pulling out the straw from his empty cup and sucking on the end of it.

John wasn’t wrong. Hearing that made him itch to go back down into the bat cave right now, hiding away from the world to bask in complete solitude. But then his heart sunk and wallowed in self-pity at being reminded how alone he was. Bruce was torn between wanting to save Gotham city or spend a day out watching John put things between his lips. This is why he won’t ever call himself a hero.

“You see, I also know that I’m the current spirit in your life that’s keeping you up above water” John smirked, glancing up to meet his eyes.

“What makes you think that?” Bruce derided.

“Well, I’ve been messing up and pulling my usual weird stunts and so far, you haven’t run a mile” The man quirked a brow, his smile showing teeth.

Bruce scoffed.

“I’m happy to be the guy who reminds you to keep trying to live a somewhat normal life” he chuckled.

“Do you prefer a normal life?” Bruce asked, his persona was completely gone at this point, but John hadn’t taken any notice, simply working with his blunt replies. 

“Uh yeah,” John said scoffing. “We’re all going to die one day and as much as building asylums and saving the city from a crisis sounds thrilling, it’s going to get boring eventually. Plus we're not all made out of money. What never gets dull is experiencing relationships with others. It’s the best feeling in the world when someone loves you. If- If Jeanie died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself! What would be the point of living? “

Bruce was conflicted over hearing that. One because it had punched him in the gut, being reminded that John loved another instead of him. Secondly, he understood what John meant about losing a loved one, he had experienced it. Twice. 

“Is your wife the reason why you’re so cheery all the time?” Bruce tried to hide his solemnness, but was probably failing miserably.

“Oh no, that’s just my comedic genius, Jeanie says I’m going to be a star. Let me know if you ever want to get into the business. Straight man and wise guy acts do well you know.”

“I’m not very funny"

“Exactly, that’s my point!”

“I’m not being a part of some comedy routine...”

“Aw come on!”

Bruce grunted.

“Guess I’ll stick to being a solo act for now” John sighed, taking another empty slurped of his drink.

Bruce reluctantly went on the Ferris wheel that John had been eyeing up the whole time at the cafe. It was placed in the middle of the ground floor and Bruce wishes it would miraculously fall to pieces, so he didn’t have to get on it.

“You gave your word…” John sang as they waited in line like a bunch of idiots. Bruce hadn’t accepted the invitation to hang out purely to make it up to John; he had genuinely wanted to try to become friends. He just didn’t expect John to go this hard on him this early; he was being completely pushed out of his comfort zone. 

Bruce peered at him, “You know, if we become friends, you’ll have to do things that you don’t like, that I like”

With his hands in his pant pockets, John suddenly pulled a somber expression. It was one of the first times Bruce had seen such a face on him and he couldn’t help but laugh at it. The man could make his whole face drop when he wanted to.

John continued to bore at him with a frown. 

“What’s that face for? John… stop it” he actually started to feel bad “forget I said it”

John smirked, “ah you’re too easy Brucie! Keep going like that and I think I could convince you to hand me your whole savings account”

“You already have my whole savings account”

“I do? Oh yeah!” the man laughed wildly as he climbed into the seat like a kid when it was their turn to get on. There was no elegance to it; he practically scrambled in on all fours. Bruce followed in behind him, with much more class, making sure to keep his long coat from getting trapped between the door as the staff member shut it.

“You know, I don’t know what is more confusing. How I’m managing to endure these weird situations or how I’m letting you put me in them” Bruce scoffed, enjoying the close radius between them. There was nothing in-between them to stop their shoulders and knees from brushing against each other and with John’s boisterous mood, it happened often.

“It’s all because you want to please your best pal John!” the man gleamed beside him, stretching an arm over Bruce’s shoulder and sliding fingers along his neck. Bruce wasn’t sure if he had meant to aim for his back. The carriage had already begun to slowly lift from the floor. They were inside a mall so it wasn't going to be much of a view.

John had brought the second ice cream pot on the ride he hadn’t finished yet and began to poke at it. Bruce was expecting John to bring the spoon of ice-cream to his mouth, but he instead held it out to Bruce.

“John no, I draw the line”

“What? No one can see us!” the other insisted with a laugh.

Bruce felt humiliated. If anyone caught him being spoon-fed ice-cream in a Ferris wheel it would be on magazine covers for the next week. Despite all that, and even though he already knew he was going to despise it, he bit down on the spoon; simply to savor the experience of sharing with John in that way. Tasting the ice-cream on his tongue, he realized there was no thought to the combo of flavors John had picked out, other than pure sugar.

“I’m not a fan of ice cream” he huffed after a moments pause.

“Well, what are you a fan of?”

Bruce was recently on a very special diet for exercise.

“Oh! You’re one of those meatheads”

Bruce scowled at him.

“In a complimentary kind of way!”

“You have ice-cream on your face.”

“Where?” John looked cross-eyed at his nose. Then he attempted to wipe it away with the back of his hand.

Bruce laughed, “Use the napkin in your pocket.”

“Oh that reminds me! We need to go clothes shopping after this” He grinned wiggling his brows, as he pulled the napkin out and rubbed at his face. He then placing it back in his pocket and continued to eat out the tub.

“I thought you were saving up for a holiday...”

“Well, fashion is a man’s first priority!” John exclaimed, pointing up a finger with a wide grin. “You can sell any great story about yourself if you’re wearing a good enough suit” 

Bruce agreed, with the statement but didn’t personally enjoy clothes shopping himself. Looking fashionable was simply mandatory to keep up appearances.

Bruce nodded, “Well, I’m a veteran; I could show you the ropes. Not that you need them…”

He lowered his eyes to analyze the outfit John was currently wearing which was a dark silky indigo shirt with obsidian pants. He had elegant patterns up the sleeves and on his chest, and two buttons open at the collar, leaving a gap open by his neck. Bruce wanted to slide his hand down it and feel his chest.

They had reached the top of the Ferris wheel and John carelessly leaned forward over the bars, his whole upper half dangling out the carriage. Bruce instinctively hauled him back by the shirt collar, nearly choking him. 

"What was that for?" the man whined, furrowing his brows.

"You know what” he scolded.

Once they had made it down to the bottom, with John having finally finished his ice-cream and throwing it in a bin they passed, Bruce led them in the direction of his favorite suit store. Until he abruptly stopped to turn and find John hadn't followed him.

“I know I said I wanted clothes... but arcades first!” John cheered, pointing down the hall to a dark room with a huge glowing neon sign above it.

Bruce groaned, “John you’re joking…”

“What, the Ferris wheel was already too much for you? Let’s be honest, your reputations already down the drain” the man chuckled, digging his hands into his pant pockets and turning on his feet to head towards it.

Bruce scoffed; he wasn’t wrong. 

John entered the arcade; did he know Bruce would follow? He got lost out of sight for a minute before Bruce hastily caught up with him and entered the dark area. They were the oldest in the room at first glance until Bruce spotted much older men sat at the back in the gambling section.

The interior was practically pitch-black but the lights from all the flashing machines acted as good enough lighting. UV paint was used to decorate the area, making neon colors radiate super luminous around the environment. There were strange creatures and monsters scattered around, with one being of a giant animatronic dinosaur head dangling overhead on a wall. It felt like he had entered a mad house. 

“Oooh! Look at these goodies!” John hollered over the roaring music. He had darted over to plaster his hands on the glass window of one of the too many claw machines. Being in a dark room with ultra-violet lights made Johns’ eyes and teeth glow white when he smiled making Bruce feel like he was hallucinating. He wondered what he looked like in return. 

“Hell no, waste of money” he scoffed.

“What?!” John yelled over the deafening music, he curved a hand behind his ear to emphasize his hardship.

“Waste of money!” Bruce shouted, this time John hearing him.

“Spoil sport!” the man pouted then his eyes shot open, “WOAH!”

John had spotted a shooter game and dashed over to it. It was coated in frightening apocalyptic splash art.

“I need a coin Brucie! Load me up!” he beamed; grabbing a hold of the plastic rifle and pointing it at the screen making him look ridiculous. People their age shouldn’t be playing with these toys, but he’ll give the man credit for his confidence.

“Why is it coming out of my wallet?!” he teased.

“You pay me my salary, what’s the difference?!” The man sassed.

Bruce scoffed at the cheek of him. He conceded, rolling his eyes as he stuck a coin in.

John couldn’t aim for the life of him making Bruce laugh.

“Gah, this is difficult!” John whined, Bruce thought it was sad to see his coin go to waste.

“Hand it here!” Bruce commanded, grabbing the plastic gun out his hands and aiming bang on at all the targets. This was easy game to him, he’s practiced aiming batarang’s further than this and you had to have a good eye to use a grapple like he does every night.

“Ahaha! Keep going Bruce!” John cheered, raising fists in the air egging him on.

The screen was filled with low graphic zombies trailing towards him, the speakers positioned on either side of the machine reverberated roars and groans, making Bruce’s eardrums feel like they were going to explode.

John came up behind him and impersonated being a damsel in distress, wrapping his arms around Bruce as he buried his head into his back “Save me Bruce!” he cried.

Bruce shot the last zombie and handed the laser rifle back to John. The man’s hands on his chest had captivated him and caused him to suck in a breath before they fell away. He wondered if John had noticed and admired his muscles, but then realized how silly of a fantasy that was.

“You ever thought about being an actor?!” he suggested, quirking a brow. The man’s talents seemed endless.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to get the role of leading lady?!”

Bruce choked on a laugh, not expecting that response. Okay he admitted it, John was funny and he had the right calling himself a comedian. John placed his hands in his pockets with a smug look as he smoothly walked over to the next machine of his choice; Bruce eagerly following him.

“Let’s try this one next!” he dragged Bruce over by the shoulder, to another shooter type one. However this time it was practical, with the player having to throw balls into a container without them bouncing out. Bruce concentrated his throw and aimed it, calculating the trajectory and fall off. He landed a bullseye again, making the LED digit numbers go up.

“Right on!” John hollered, jumping up and down; however Bruce was starting to get a headache from all the music.

“Okay, John enough! My ears are bleeding!”

“No race cars?!” John wailed, his somber eyes peering over to the machines with seats and a steering wheel, displaying a quirky character riding a go-kart on the screen.

“I could buy you a race car!”

“Let me guess, I drive it alone around a racetrack! It’s called doing things together!”

Bruce scoffed, “I don’t even like racing!”

“Well, you must like fighting, with how you took out them zombies!”

He couldn’t believe he was trying to keep up with the man’s wit. Instead, Bruce turned to leave and get out of here before he went mad, till he felt a hand grab at his arm hauling him back.

“We didn’t get a prize!” John whimpered.

“I’ll buy you one if we get out of here!” he shrugged out the man’s grip.

John’s face perked up at that. Leaving the place Bruce’s ears still echoed the music in his head whilst John was laughing hysterically to himself as he clutched his knees. “That was fun!” the other chuckled, speaking in a much quieter tone now.

Finally, they approached Bruce's favorite suit store. “We’re going to walk into a suit store with a giant bear? Leave it outside” he demanded, brows furrowing to shoot a heated glare at John. 

“He’ll get stolen! I’ve called him Brucie Jr he needs a friend” John giggled, waving one of the bear’s woolly paws at him.

Bruce snatched it from him and threw it behind a large potted plant. “There, we won’t lose sight of it”. He was an idiot to have agreed to go into a toy store and buy a bear for John before they had come here. It seemed he can't ever say no to him.

“Well, I’m going to be distracted, so you better not take your eyes off him” John raised a brow, he seemed skeptical in trusting him.

The night eventually ended with them venturing to Buffy’s Steak house. Exiting out of the mall and stepping out into the night air, made the whole trip feel like an adventure. Stars sprinkled the sky and the crescent moon guided their way. There was a harsh wind and together they endured the brunt of it, huddling against each other’s shoulders as they walked along side each other. Bruce could see the condensation of John’s breath hitting his face as he admired him from the corner of his eye.

He had lost all rationality at this point. It felt like they had been hanging out forever and he was exhausted, but yet he still kept saying yes to whatever John wanted to do next. It felt like he had been deprived of this unnamed drug for so long, and now he wanted to overdose on it. Is this what normal people do? Is this why others call him crazy when he prefers to bask in solitude?

He was excited take up John's challenge that he had originally turned down before, wanting to rectify the rejection. He tried to ignore the fact that it was also likely so he could get a better look at John in his new suit that he had adorned. His old one was in the bag. Bruce had watched that bear, John was currently carrying, for nearly an hour as he went over all the options at the store. That man took fashion seriously and he had walked out telling Bruce he barely scratched the surface in aiming for what he wanted.

The steak house was busy when they arrived as it was late and the perfect time for large crowds. But it was a luxury to simply escape the freezing weather. Bruce didn’t even notice the odd looks any more or lingering stares of people who were potentially recognizing him. As long as they didn’t interrupt him, he could pretend like he was living an ordinary life and accomplishing it.

John was worried they wouldn't be able to get a seat at first, till it was only a matter of seconds for the waiter to recognize Bruce and they were escorted to the nearest available booth. The manager had come to greet him asking what they owe this pleasure, to which John rattled on about how he always loved the look of this place; probably covering for Bruce’s grunt and lack of response. 

With John now wearing ridiculously fetching attire, they must be the fanciest looking rich men to have ever entered this run-down joint. Well, they might have been if they didn’t have the teddy bear.

“Brucie want some?” John offered a fork with a piece of meat stuck on the end to the bear that was leaning against his side next to him. It was sat at the table with them like it was the third guest.

“Stop saying that.” He huffed.

“Why?’

“How would you like it if I called you Johnny?”

“I’m talking to the bear” John quipped, prying the meat off the fork by wiping it on the edge of his half-finished plate. “Plus, I don’t mind a nickname. We'd be proper pals then-”

“Were not…”

“Not what?”

“Uh…” Bruce stumbled.

“Woo all this for nothing; what do I have to do to be friends with you? Save the planet?” John snarked, as he stabbed the fork into a chip and slipped it between his lips.

“You’d be saving yourself the trouble being friends with me. I’m not very good at it” he uttered, John deserved the honesty.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed” the man chuckled.

Bruce glowered at him.

John laughed, “You’re insufferable but I like suffering, so I’ll keep trying”

Bruce raised his brows in surprise, “really?”

“Yeah Bruce, haven’t you figured out yet that you’re never getting rid of me?” the man smiled, taking another bite from his plate.

Bruce was in disbelief. He could feel his heart swelling larger in his chest, making him want to clutch it. Even though John had rejected him at the bar, there’s a chance he could still experience him for the rest of his days. It gave Bruce hope again of feeling happy.

“Come on, what happened to the Macho talk?” Bruce’s teased, prodding at John's half-finished plate. At the start of their meal, John had made courageous predictions that he was going to wipe Bruce off the floor. But it hadn’t been long before Bruce was on to his third plate and the other man was struggling to start his second.

“Ugh...” John groaned dropping his fork in a clang, and rolling his head back against the plush leather of the booth. “I’m full, bloated, and tired. I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Oh, so there is an off button for all that energy at some point?”

“It’s the end of the day!” He cried, rubbing fingers through his hair. Bruce watched, wanting them to be his own.

“God Bruce thanks for coming out with me... I’ve needed something like this for a long time”

“No problem.”

Bruce had paid, as they seemed to have just mutually agreed that he pays for everything. Not that he minded, he found it funny how the man had him wrapped around his finger without even meaning to.

They exited the joint; it was nearly quarter to eleven at this point. John yawned but Bruce was still wide awake, knowing he still had time to become the vigilante tonight and prowl the streets of Gotham.

“Uh, Bruce…”

“What?”

Suddenly arms were wrapped around his neck pulling him in for a hug. With them being the same height John easily buried his head into his shoulder and Bruce froze at the unexpected contact. His hands were in his pockets, but he moved them out to wrap around John's waist. Then as soon as it happened, it ended, with John pulling away with a warm expression and grabbing the bear off the floor.

“Sorry, I’m sort of overly affectionate. I’ve wanted to hug you all night!” He gleamed. Bruce was suddenly jealous of the teddy bear he clung to, already missing the interaction.

“It’s okay” were the only words he found he could say.

“Well, guess I’ll see you around. Probably tomorrow if you don’t disappear again” John fired two fingers at him with a smirk.

Bruce nodded, seemingly lost for words. As the man turned his back to leave, light drops of snow getting caught in his hair, Bruce found himself chasing after him.

“Wait John!” he tugged the man’s sleeve. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home. I have a chauffeur…”

John laughed, “Of course you do, the man who has everything!”

Bruce walked side by side with John again to his arranged meeting spot with Alfred. He liked walking close to the man and leaning into his shoulder, bumping into him every time they took a step. John didn’t seem to mind, keeping a tight hold of the bear in his arms. He never did get any gloves.

Bruce milked every bit of comfort he could from the other man's body, it had been so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References: 
> 
> Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (Bruce communicates with his deceased parents)


	3. Denial

What would his parents think if they saw this? If they could see how lost and distracted he was getting from what he should be doing. Bruce was silently punishing himself in the back of the car as Alfred drove him home from the night out with John; a blacked-out window separating the two of them, the man leaving Bruce to his thoughts for now. He was dreading what reactions he was going to hear when he got back to the manor, from the gallery where their paintings hung, let alone their tombstones a few miles from the manor.

The night had been so enjoyable, despite how initially daunting it was. John had gotten him to laugh and forget about everything for a moment. But that was the problem; it was just for a moment. He could already hear the whispers, scolding him for connecting with another. Reminding him how selfish he was, for leaving them behind and thinking of someone else who wasn’t them, someone who didn’t need saving. Bruce remembered shouting back at the walls one night that his happiness wouldn’t mean he’d forget them! He never would. Alfred had found him unconscious on the floor that night and helped him to bed.

Bruce’s obsession over John was a strong contestant against those voices. He couldn’t stop thinking about him ever since he met him at that bar. It’s not often he asks to sleep with someone, and never is he rejected. Money makes people do anything, but it seems the man could not be swayed, captivated by a stronger bond that Bruce couldn’t put a price on. He wanted that so badly. He knew for the next few nights he was going to be dreaming about Buffy’s Steak House and sitting on Ferris wheels. It was rare for Bruce to ever feel happy and until tonight, he almost forgot he could.

Although technically they hadn’t agreed on being friends, with John settling that Bruce is just never the kind of guy to admit that; which he wasn’t. He felt as though they had definitely crossed over a new line into becoming closer. Bruce didn’t want to admit to what it was, as that meant John could hold it over his head and threaten him with it. Bruce cared for John as a friend plus more, and if he figured that out, he could potentially ruin Bruce by taking it all away just to spite him. It would be the final thing to tip him over the edge completely into the darkness and to never return.

When John had exited the vehicle with a wave, Bruce had wanted to go into his home with him and explore his old shabby house on a street corner. To stay there and live in some hell hole and bond over what it’s like to have nothing but just each other. Bruce could ditch his whole life now and just be content dying in each other’s arms. God, what has he become? Was he really this desperate to escape his life? It wasn’t that bad. But John had a partner waiting at home that was there for him, that stuck with him during tough times and Bruce didn’t have that. It infuriated him. He could still smell the other man’s cologne in the back of the car making him miss him even more once he was gone.

They arrived at the stupidly grandiose manor, Alfred pulling up on the generous driveway in front of the extensive front entrance. He groaned getting out of the vehicle and was grumpy the whole way down to the bat cave; Alfred not being able to pry a word from him.

“Master Bruce, this really is such childish behavior. I’ve never seen anything like it” the older man scolded him, making his way down the spiral metal steps as Bruce adorned the Bat-suit.

Bruce grunted, marching to the Batmobile to which an old but firm hand halted him by the chest.

“You’re acting recklessly”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Not as Batman, this is everything to me and I won’t mess it up.” he growled.

Alfred frowned, “something is clearly bothering you”

“Nothing is bothering me!” He snarled, batting the man’s hand away.

“No? Well, whether you like it or not you are still just a man Master Bruce and I can read you like a bloody book you’re not deceiving anyone.” Alfred put his hands on his hips, clearly appalled with his behavior.

Bruce got into the Batmobile, one armored leg hanging out the door, and paused; the guilt getting to him on how rude he was being to his loyal companion.

“I made a friend”

“And?” Alfred leaned against the door, an arm resting on the top of it, stopping Bruce from shutting it. He had known about John and had encouraged Bruce to grow closer to him, wanting him to learn a few things from the quirky man’s attitude. It made sense that he’d be happy to hear that he had accomplished friendship, but also confusing as to why Bruce was so solemn about it.

“There’s not much more to it than that” he huffed, not wanting to elaborate.

“I’m curious why you can’t muster the energy to be even remotely a tiny bit happy about that. I am truly concerned if you don’t feel a thing, in which case I might encourage you to start seeing doctors-”

“I do care,” Bruce bit out with misery, because that was the problem. He was feeling lots of things, it was too much to handle. “I want to hang out with him again I just- I don’t know how to ask him.”

“Well, I’ll invite him over to the manor”

“No, I’m not risking that! What if he sees something-“

“Behind clocks, hidden doors, and security codes? I don’t think this man’s Houdini, Master Bruce,” Alfred chortled as he pushed himself off the door and walked away with his hands in his pockets to head up the stairs and out the gloomy cave.

“You’ve spent enough bloody money burying this stuff for no one to ever come over. What a shame to not even test it once” Alfred called, getting under Bruce’s nerves.

The man knew he had gotten his message across and had won the argument. He could roast Bruce to the core, no matter how many titanium walls he put up. Bruce doesn’t know why he still bothers to argue with him.

It was no less than the next day before Alfred was nagging at him again, not wanting him to forget his promise. When the butler had suggested to arrange it this afternoon, Bruce had rebutted saying he needed a break to which Alfred reluctantly agreed that the weekend would make more sense.

The problem was it was Friday, and Bruce forgot the bloody man didn’t have a cell phone to contact him with. Alfred had even been baffled saying, “Who doesn’t own a cell?”

So, after tiptoeing around John the whole day at work, he had left a note on his desk as an invitation to come over on Sunday. John had called him as soon as he had found it and accepted it. Bruce hadn’t wanted to ask him in person in fear of being rejected; it wouldn’t be the first time the man’s done it.

Despite his outside walls showing grumpiness and dread, on the inside, he was super excited. Even with only two days’ rest, Bruce had already started to crave that drug which was John's laugh again. However, on the morning of the occasion, Bruce’s anxiety had become unbearable, with it making him think of every which way today could go wrong. Luckily Alfred came up and flung a pillow at his head to get him to snap out of it.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred had answered the door with Bruce a step behind him, to reveal John. He had arrived by chauffeur thanks to Alfred organizing it; the tall man seemed to be in a daze looking round the drive away and the exterior of the manor, likely astonished at how gargantuan it was. Ironically Bruce would much rather explore Johns home, he felt like that man’s house would be full of intriguing niche objects and treasured memorabilia unlike Bruce’s barren one.

He looked dressed up for the occasion, but Bruce is starting to think that was just always the man’s style.

“It is an honor to meet you Mr. Doe” Alfred greeted, in his perfected tone of professionalism.

“Nice to meet you too, chappy, Ol’ pal” John laughed, spotting Alfred’s British accent and shaking his hand in both of his. “Is that how they talk over there?”

“I believe you’ve watched too much Oliver twist, although I do like a good chin wag”

Bruce internally groaned, if John and Alfred get along it will be to his detriment. He’s not sure he could handle the two of them teaming up and absolutely burning him alive with sharp wit and insults. He should keep them two out of the same room as each other.

“John, you look sharp” Bruce greeted him with a nod and a smile, happy to see him again.

John's face shot up with glee, “Bruce!”

The man turned to him and shook his hand, then fell on his knees as though in excruciating pain. “Have mercy!” he cried, tugging at his hand as though Bruce had a bone-breaking grip. Bruce simply let go and tugged him up by the collar to his feet and shoved him inside.

“Didn’t bring the teddy bear?”

“He didn’t want to come, he’s grumpy like his dad” John giggled.

Walking into the foyer, John took off his shoes and coat to which Alfred took them from him. His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open in astonishment, he’s probably never experienced having a servant before.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely, Alfred nodded and walked over to the cupboard in the lobby.

“He’s cool, I like him” John smirked.

“Alfred’s been with me for as long as I can remember.”

“I sound like an old relic” Alfred retorted.

“You are”

“Oi, stop it cheeky” Alfred scoffed, shutting the cupboard door and then nodded as he took his leave calling back, “Mr. Doe do be forgiving with Master Bruce’s hosting skills, he hasn’t had much practice”

“Yes governor, I know how fragile he can be” the man winked.

Bruce scowled at the both of them.

They were left standing in the foyer with extensive stairs leading up to the upper floor and hallways surrounding them, leading to rooms Bruce wasn’t sure even existed anymore.

“Well, I guess I’ll show you around” Bruce breathed, hoping his nerves vanished soon. He really was dreadful at these kinds of things.

“You sure we can cover it all in a day?” John quirked a brow, laughing.

They walked through the halls which were like galleries, littered with paintings of important figures in Gotham and the previous owners of the manor, none of Bruce’s family though, as they were upstairs.

Bruce couldn’t think of anyone better to have over to spice up the mansion. This place needs someone with John's energy to make use of it after he and Alfred had silently been living in it for years. Pretty much every room had been untouched for months aside from the essential rooms to live by.

John looked at the two knight armors that stood propped up guarding the broad doorframe they were about to walk through.

“What’s the point of that, just for decoration?”

“I guess…”

“Ever tried one on?”

“It’s not my style”

John was shown the indoor Swimming pool which excited him, and his mind was blown even more when he was told there was another one outside. As well as a guest room where Bruce watched John bounce on the bed having never seen one so big, a boring unused Office, his father’s one being upstairs, two bathrooms, Alfred’s quarters which John stuck his head in to snoop; even Bruce had a glance inside wanting to check if everything was in order. The man’s room was immaculate as expected, making him feel guilty about his own bad habits.

Then he was shown the Rec room slash family living room with a bar filled with untouched alcohol. John eyed it up impressed and then Bruce showed him the even more impressive wine cellar. There was a reading room slash library which made John yawn and groan at the idea of reading so many books. However, his eyes went wide at the media room, curious how you would fit a giant screen like that through the door. Bruce explained that it was a projector. John's favorite room by far was the games room, which held a pool table in the center as well as a dartboard on the wall and a table for card games. John wanted to get lost in it, but Bruce wanted to finish the rest of the tour and the man reluctantly agreed.

They skimmed past the more humdrum rooms such as the Laundry room, Service Kitchen, and Dining room which had a giant long table in the middle that can serve easily over ten people. It couldn’t be more wasted. There was a large door that led out into the extraordinary extensive Garden that looked more like a maze with all its over towering hedges. There was also another door that led into the Garage that stored his father’s classic and expensive cars Bruce never drove.

They circled their way back to the Foyer and Bruce glanced to John who seemed to be growing overwhelmed.

“Hey, are you alright?” he held the door open for him, John ducking to pass under his arm.

“Yeah, it’s just, there’s so much stuff here untouched. I mean no offense but if you gave it away, it could change some people’s lives”

“Well, you tell me who and they can have it”

John laughed, “no way, it really means nothing to you?”

“No” not anymore.

They went up the stairs; John had his hands in his pant pockets following up elegantly. He had developed a smooth and calming aura. That was until he showed John his master bedroom. Entering his room John was amazed at his giant walk-in closet. Admiring all his clothes, mostly suits, he’s worn at gala events. Bruce also had a large balcony causing John to pull his habit of hanging too far over the edge, Bruce hauling him back this time by the waist.

“That tickles!” the man squirmed in his grip giggling and laughing wildly.

Heading out the room he was shown two more guestrooms, a bathroom, and the terrace as well as the stairs up to the loft. The rest of the rooms upstairs were closed off due to them still holding memories of his parents. When they strolled past the closed doors Bruce lied and said there was nothing in there. John didn’t pry any further, maybe he understood.

“Okay back to the games room!” John gleamed, clapping his hands together, snapping Bruce out of going down memory lane.

“You have been patient” Bruce smiled; John deserved a reward.

“Piggyback?” the man jumped on him, his hands on his shoulders trying to wrap his legs around his waist and clamber on to him.

“John!” Bruce scolded as he held him down.

“Race you down the stairs then?” The man laughed as he whisked off down the hall and Bruce tried to keep up with him.

They entered the room, John immediately scorching over to snatch the two pool cues off their rack on the wall as Bruce went to pour himself a glass of whisky at the bar; he knew he was going to need it.

“I challenge you Brucie!”

Bruce scoffed; taking a swig from the shot glass and then placing it carefully back on the worktop. He placed his hands in his pockets standing still, making no move to go and play the game. “Do you even know how to play pool?”

“Nope!” John said as he threw a cue to Bruce which he instinctively caught, taken by surprise for a moment as it nearly poked his eye out. John plucked the blue chalk and scrubbed it on the tip of his cue then blew on it. “But I’ll figure it out as I do with most things” the man winked, making Bruce swoon.

Bruce set up the game by using the triangle rack to group all the balls together, making sure the eight ball was in the center. He placed the white cue ball on the table at an off angle to the side, as he knew that was an advantageous tactic to get a worthy first hit. After his turn, he glanced up to find John distracted trying to rotate the pool cue around his arms like it was a bo staff. The man ended up holding the cue out in front of him and then began rolling it around his palm and the back of his hand, whilst the other one rested in his pant pocket.

“You've got to hit the balls...”

John giggled, “Heh balls”

“How old are you again?”

“Younger than you”

“You don’t know that”

“Well, you look about fifty, am I near the mark?” John scoffed as he held the cue outstretched to one side, as though waving a wand, then released it from his grip, causing it to roll down his arm and over his back, onto his other outstretched arm which he then slightly rotated, causing the cue stick to flip around his forearm and he caught it in mid-air before it fell to the floor. It was over within seconds and was an impressive stunt.

“You’re about twenty years off” Bruce frowned.

“You need to go to bed on time, dark eyes”

With John's teases, Bruce took the game very seriously, aiming to show the cocky man up and take him down a peg. However, frustratingly, John was very adept. He was precise with his aims and for a man who claims to have never played pool he seemed to be able to estimate the trajectory of the balls well. Plus, Bruce found it hard to concentrate whilst watching the tall man lean over the table. With John’s hair swept back and an arm stretched forward, two fingers planted on the table, he looked like he was on the prowl and about to pounce. They were neck on neck with John winning by one point, till the man got caught up wanting to do more party tricks; finding goofing around much more fun than playing the game.

He sat on the edge of the table, with his butt facing Bruce, and hit the cue ball with his hands behind his back. On his next turn, he wanted to see how many balls he could get to hit against each other, careless of whether they went in the hole or not. Finally, he tried to hit at a certain angle on the cue ball, to see if he could get it to bounce in the air and land on the ball in front of it. He managed it and Bruce quirked a brow in surprise.

“You know you’re not going to win by doing that?”

“Depends what you call winning…” John smirked. “I don’t see you doing any of this.”

Bruce chuckled, he couldn’t even get mad, he found John extremely handsome right now and simply admired his quirky talents. He gave in, letting his competitiveness fall away completely.

Breaking the rules, he moved the balls to align in a row against each other, telling John to try and hit the cue ball over them. Encouraging his antics, John did just that, earning applause from Bruce. The man kept going; he grabbed a ball and hit it hard against another at such a specific point, that it caused it to spin miraculously in a place like a wooden spinner top. Bruce laughed, impressed. John then grabbed the cue ball again, and fired it hard against the spinning ball, causing it to ping off whilst the cue ball traded its place, spinning round in circles like its predecessor.

“If you’re trying to woo me its working” Bruce teased.

“I haven’t even started” John cooed.

Bruce realized why he had a successful marriage.

By the end, John had somehow ended up on the table with the cue ball between his legs telling Bruce to hit it as hard as he could to see if it would hurt.

“Are you mad?”

“What? It’ll be funny!”

“Get down” Bruce scoffed, “surely there’s more fun to have at this point.”

“Oh, I know!” John beamed, rolling off the pool table to his feet. Unexpectedly, the man swung the pool cue at Bruce, just missing his head as he dodged it.

“John no-“

The man swung again and as soon as Bruce deflected it with his own, he knew he just doomed himself to a full-on war. There was no talking sense into the other man once he was excited. He chased Bruce around the room.

“Come on Bruce fight me!” He giggled wildly, his childish side coming out again. The man went in for another swing and Bruce decided it was time the man got some karma. He spun on his heel and swung his cue hard, as though aiming to hit a hole in one with a golf club.

It clashed against John's own cue that the man had brought down on him from above, and then it split in two; the top of it flying off over John's head causing him to flinch and duck out of the way.

“AHAHA! You snapped it in two, you machine!” John cheered, jumping on the couch they were both stood on.

“Oops” Bruce stared at the snapped-off end between his eyes. Alfred wasn’t going to be pleased; he needed to figure how to hide it.

“We should tight rope walk the banisters next!” John burst out, a manic look in his eyes.

Bruce knew he could easily do that and wanted to impress John, especially because of how much the man had been showing off himself.

“No, we can’t John. Let’s do normal things,” He huffed as he calmly stepped off the couch and put the broken cue down on the table, accepting his fate with Alfred. He grabbed his glass of whisky off of the bar and brought it to his lips. “What about the media room? We could watch something together”

“Something romantic?”

Bruce choked on his drink and ended up coughing, it took a moment to re-compose himself. John jumped off the couch towards him and patted his back concerned, asking if he was alright.

“All I have are old action movies, to be honest” Bruce wheezed out, ones his dad would leave him to watch in his childhood.

John shoved him away nearly making him spill his drink, “Boring!”

“What, you don’t find media entertaining?”

“It’s a lot of sitting in the same place.” John wiggled on the spot, his body looking liked it itched at the thought, “Let’s go outside!”

Trailing outside, Bruce noticed the hedges were trimmed and order had been maintained across the landscape, likely thanks to Alfred hiring gardeners. If Bruce didn’t have that butler, everything would be falling apart and abandoned.

The majority of plants and trees had shed their coats for the winter, but a few had bloomed. There were winterberries scattered along the edges of the path, creating an effect of red polka-dots contrasting against the white snowdrops and Pieris planted behind them. Snow powdered the garden due to a heavy downfall last night, there were thick snow blankets on top of the over-towering hedges.

Pine trees and fir trees added more colour to the scenery, with pinecones crunching beneath Bruce’s boots as they had fallen onto the gravel. A French-styled gazebo, like a giant birdcage, could be seen over in the distance whilst Infront of them was an enormous ring-shaped fountain. The water was frozen, icicles dangled around the edges where it would normally overflow.

John stepped up on the stone edge of the fountain, holding his arms out and stepping one foot in Infront of the other as he watched his shadow become shaped like an airplane in front of him. The mid-day sun, casting a warm orange glow on his back. He swayed nearly falling off and Bruce caught him with a hand on his side leaning him back the other way to stay upright.

John giggled “thanks.”

“You know, I haven’t been in this garden for a long time. Maybe even years.”

“What? You could build a whole other house here. How about that, me and Jeanie move into your backyard?”

Bruce scoffed, “I’d never hear the end of you.”

“you would if you asked nicely”

“mhm,” Bruce didn’t want to.

Bruce stepped up onto the ledge to join him, not being able to resist the urge.

“That’s it, Bruce!”

Alfred was preparing food in the service kitchen and watched him from the window like he was seven years old again.

Four benches were positioned around the fountain, a wide gap between them. John pointed to one of them. “Hey, you think you could jump to that?”

Bruce shrugged, “I don’t know…” he then did with a hand still in his pocket, balancing on one foot.

Like John at the pool table, Bruce pushed himself further. Lunging from the armrest of the bench over to another about four meters away, the middle of his soles hitting the edge first, then smoothly leaning forward to regain his balance.

“Okay you don’t have to act all cocky about it!” but John was smirking. “You like me asking you to do this stuff I knew it, ever since the arcade! My businessman has a like for adventure and danger”

Bruce blushed at being referred to as his. The garden activities were a good idea, despite the cold weather. Bruce had given John his gloves insisting he wore them over him, as he didn’t mind.

“Hey, have you ever tried learning jiu-jitsu or kung-fu? You look like you could knock a few guys out John.” his cold breath hitting against his face. It was trickling with snow again, but not settling. The grass was frosted tipped.

“Ahaha! Do you think? Nah, I’m not much of a fighter…” the man went withdrawn with a frown as he stepped off the fountain ledge. It seemed Bruce had hit a massive insecurity making the man go back to behaving exactly how he had when he first met him.

“Come on, even Alfred knows how to fight, he was an ex-militant in the British air-force. Bet you didn’t expect that?” Bruce felt excited, to pull the other man out of his comfort zone just like how John had with him by dragging him on the Ferris wheel at the mall.

“It’s just not in my blood”

“Hey, come on don’t be ridiculous, it’s not that hard if you know what you’re doing.” Bruce tutted, stepping off the bench elegantly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, just hold your arms up,” he grabbed the other man’s forearms, lifting them Infront of his face. This stuff was like stealing candy from a baby to Bruce. He had learned this on his first day at the prison. A long time ago now, but valuable fundamentals. “That’s it, now you’re blocking.”

John looked scared, “yeah blocking my face! Everything else is open”

“well, you’ve got your feet to move you out of the way.” Bruce chuckled, dropping his arms. He then patted Johns shoulder blade “to throw a good punch, you’ve just got to throw with your right shoulder from here”,

Bruce gave an example, swinging a fist hard through the air.

“Like this?!” John copied him, ending up in an identical position by his side.

“Yeah, like that, but put your back into it more”

“Can you block it?!”

“Uh well…”

John went to swing at Bruce and the man just evaded it.

“How do you deflect a kick?” John quirked a brow, as he then unexpectedly went to kick Bruce down in a very private place. Bruce caught the back of his calf and twisted it, sending the man off balance and falling face down into the grass.

“Like that” Bruce scoffed, almost feeling bad if the man hadn’t been asking for it. If John was going to fire hits with no warning, then Bruce was just going to use his reflexes.

“Ahaha! This is fun!” John growled out, turning over to face him with wild eyes of excitement.

“Yeah well, I didn’t have any brothers, so Alfred taught me” He hauled John up by his hand, and then brushed the frost off his shoulders.

“Another go?”

“Sure”

“How about…..” John circled Bruce with his hands in his pockets then shouted, “tag you’re it!” hitting Bruce’s back as he then ran off between the hedges laughing maniacally.

“John!” Bruce wasn’t going to play something so stupid. He briskly walked after him, stepping up the pace to a light jog when he realized, he’d lost him between the maze of hedges. It took him ten minutes to finally find the other man who had been hiding because he couldn’t hold back his giggling.

“You suck at hide and seek”

“Yeah, I know” he laughed standing up, he had leaves in his hair.

Bruce scoffed, “Did you run around the hedges or through them?”

“What?”

“Your hair’s filthy”

“Really? Get it out” John lowered his head towards him as though taking a bow.

Bruce hesitated but then ran all ten of his fingers between the strands of John's hair, combing the twigs and leaves out. It was as soft as he had imagined and tickled his skin.

“All gone?” John said standing tall again. Bruce’s ministrations had caused his hair to be swept back and styled neatly again, not a hair out of place. They were also standing very close eye to eye. Bruce stumbled away, nearly falling backward.

“Don’t be scared of me now that I know how to kick your ass” John laughed.

He was nowhere near close, although he had put up a good fight with the cue sticks.

“That’s a good joke” Bruce snarked.

They were both lying on their sides in the rec room, an elbow propping them up as they held cards from a deck Bruce had found. He had also ignited the fireplace due to them being cold from the outside, the flames causing shadows to flicker over their faces. Resting on the large Persian rug, long legs matching each other’s, they took turns picking cards from each other’s deck. The only card game Bruce remembered compared to John's list of hundreds was Old Maid.

“John just pick one already…”

John had one card left in his hand that he needed to pair, whilst Bruce had two with the old Maid hidden in his left hand. John glanced at it and then looked up to meet Bruce’s eyes and squinted, as though trying to see inside his mind.

“Mind readings against the rules”

“damn”

The man reached for the one in his left, causing Bruce to smirk which then made John change his mind for the other.

“Your poker face sucks” John laughs wildly, as he dropped his winning pair to the rug. “That or you’re just too eager for my downfall”

“Definitely the latter, you should see me at the gala balls. You’d think I was having a great time”

“I dream of going there”

“Well, I’ll take you with me to the next one, it’s coming up soon” Bruce had gotten over his fear of rejection with the man, feeling the closest he ever has been to someone other than Alfred.

“Are you pulling my leg?" he sat up, genuinely delighted at the proposal.

“Yeah, you’re my PA so why not? it makes sense” Bruce shrugged, stacking the cards up “It’s not as grand as the media makes it out to be”

“It looks extravagant”

“Have you gentleman finished tipping up the whole house yet?” Alfred scoffed, spotting the mess they’ve created in the rec room. Coming in from the cold, they had simply dumped their damp coats and shoes on the floor beside them. Alfred stood in the doorway and when Bruce and John could find no excuse for their behaviour he simply said “Dinner”

They sat down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, instead of at the stupid long dining table. Alfred had cooked a classic British Sunday roast.

“Why isn’t Alfred joining us?” John glanced to the butlers retreating back confused.

“It wouldn’t be professional of me, dear”

“well, I’m going to miss you darling”

This can’t be happening.

“Sit with us chap, tell me about ol’ Brucie here!” John encouraged, catching Alfred by the sleeve and tugging him over.

Sitting down, Alfred poured himself a glass of alcohol, “The man’s become quite the mystery to even me, he’s changed a lot since I was switching out his diapers”

Bruce groaned internally.

“Was little baby Bruce not as grumpy then as he is now?”

“He was a very happy boy”

Bruce swallowed hard at hearing Alfred say that, it explained why it hurt him to see him the way he was now.

“So, John, how’s Jeanie?” Bruce asked, he was that desperate to get off this conversation.

“She’s annoyed I went on a trip out with you Bruce, after hearing all the great things we did at the mall. She was like, why don’t we ever do that John? I said I’ll go with her any day. It’s probably going to be a lot more fun without grumpy pants complaining the whole time”

“I wasn’t grumpy”

“You were” John chuckled.

Bruce grunted, not wanting to argue.

“So, what’s it like to be one of the Wayne’s?”

“fantastic” Bruce drawled, thick with sarcasm.

Alfred scowled at him, “the Wayne family has been honourable to Gotham for years accomplishing a great many things until they passed, unfortunately”.

Murdered.

“Now I understand what Mayor James meant, wow what an ass” John laughs.

“A twat” Alfred added.

“I never knew my parents, so it’s hard to imagine what it feels like to lose them… I’m sorry Bruce”

“You never knew your parents?” Bruce gave him a quizzical look, bewildered at how he didn’t know such important information.

“Yeah, I watched crime watch, and the doctors had a good gag calling me John Doe! I knew I was destined for comedy” John laughed, and Alfred chuckled with him.

“Well, where did you grow up? What orphanage?” Bruce cut in.

“Uh, I think it was either Falcone’s or Burnside. I don’t remember much of it, who’s got time for that? Not me!”

“I had a turbulent upbringing myself Mr. Doe, I say cheers to that” Alfred chortled, as he raised his glass of chardonnay, John clanked his own glass against it, and then they both finished off their drinks.

Bruce was confused about how John could be unsure of where he grew up unless there was some horrible event that caused him to block the entire thing from his mind or, was he hiding something?

Bruce pondered, he never did research into John on his computer down in the cave and was curious about what he’d find. But part of him enjoys the game of getting to know each other slowly. It was fun, and clearly an important part of forming a friendship. He was torn.

“Some choose to forget whilst some choose to linger…” Alfred glared at Bruce, as he said the last word. “Perhaps after dinner, you could show Mr. Doe the family souvenirs you seem to reminisce fondly over”

“No thanks” Bruce huffed.

“Maybe you could even talk about it”

“no” he growled.

John seemed confused, glancing over to Bruce and then back to a concerned Alfred.

“I’m happy to listen to whatever it is”

“Bruce, you’re not going to get closer with anyone unless you open up” Alfred scolded him.

“Yeah Bruce, as much as breaking through your walls are fun, my hands starting to hurt”

Damn these two.

“The souvenirs, that’s it”

Bruce had not allowed a single person in these rooms since his parents passed. Alfred would only enter them when he couldn’t find Bruce or sometimes when he wanted to give them a good clean. He dreaded going into the trophy room, because that was where the big family portrait was that spoke to him. It was the source of the horrible voices that haunted his nightmares and never left him alone. What would they think of John? They’re not going to be happy to see him. He hesitated, before finally opening the door. John and Alfred encouraging him to enter inside.

“The dragon's lair” Alfred mocked, making light of the tense situation.

“Don’t walk there!” Bruce held out his hand in front of John, blocking him from walking on an old, matted fur rug his mother bought.

Alfred scolded him. “I’m sure Mr. Doe can be more than trusted to handle himself”

No, he couldn’t. But Bruce did notice the man, for now, did keep his hands in his pockets respectfully. John then gazed up at the large family portrait, towering over them.

“So, daddy Bruce and momma Bruce. Wow, you three are like triplets”

“Hi! “John cheered, waved to the painting. “not very chatty” he smirked. “Probably busy living it up in the afterlife amiright?”

Bruce was confused, nothing was happening despite John bugging them. The painting wasn’t belittling him, despite him being sure they would. They weren’t angry, or maybe they were just holding their thoughts back for now. Either way, he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I didn’t tell you this before Bruce, but Jeanie’s come down with something… I’ve been thinking lately what if it’s something bad? Another tragedy that makes sense with how bad my luck is”

Bruce swallowed, and then darkly said “you should be spending every minute with her”

“Well, it’s important to keep friends in hard times” Alfred added behind them. “John’s doing the right thing”

“Thanks for showing me Bruce,” John said, noticing how this seems like a difficult thing for him.

Bruce grunted, having nothing to say. Alfred glared at him.

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. I can come over to see her ... if you’d like” Bruce offered, unsure how that would even help.

“Oh, it’s alright, she doesn’t really like people seeing her in such a state. Thanks though.”

“If she needs anything, you let me know.”

“You’re such a hero” John swooned with a giggle.

Bruce wanted to get back to a more important subject that’s been bugging him since hearing it, “So… you didn’t know your parents?”

Alfred had left the room at this point leaving them to it.

“Nope” he shrugged “I guess they didn’t want me. I get it, I’m a lot to handle.... probably saved themselves a lot of hassle” he laughed.

“You find that funny?” Bruce said flatly.

“Well.... yeah” John shrugged, “It was a long time ago. I’m turning thirty soon and it’s about time I got over it. You have to laugh about these things.”

Bruce didn’t understand that concept at all, it felt insincere.

“Bruce?”

“You think I don’t know what hard times are don’t you? You must look at me like I’ve got nothing to complain about. I suppose I haven’t...”

John wore a face of concern.

“But a parent’s death isn’t easy. Sometimes it can take time to get over it, I don’t want to ever forget about them and if I- I could give up everything to get them back I would…”

“Hey, they’ll be proud of you, you know. How you’ve kept going strong without them.”

Bruce looked to John.

“All it takes is that little dark voice, coming in and bringing you down. But you need to tell it to go away buster! Because you’re not having it today, today you’re going to have a good day, take care of yourself, and have some fun!”

John paused, then said “That’s what they would want”

Bruce agrees, that does sound like what they’d say, instead of telling him he’s selfish and how much of a failure he was. Bruce for the first-time doubts whether the voices are from his parents and in fact starts to wonder if they are his own. That instead of their spirits haunting the place, it was more likely just him in his head, punishing himself over a tragedy he feels like he could have prevented.

John’s hand slid into Bruce’s taking him off guard. It was comforting, unlike a handshake. Their body heat radiating out between the cracks of their skin, warming his cold palm. John's grip was gentle, whereas Bruce felt like he was holding on for dear life.

“Come on, let’s get out of here”

As they walked along in silence down the hall, their hands still interlaced, Bruce could for a moment imagine they were more than just friends. He would love for John to never leave his side and would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how crazy it was. John waited till they had gotten to the end of the hall and were standing by the top of the stairs till he released his hand. Giving a light squeeze before doing so.

“Well, I guess I should get going”

“Uh yeah” Bruce found himself lost for words and was trying to get his brain functioning again, “I’ll escort you out...”

Bruce stood in the doorway as he said his goodbyes to John. He was sad to see his friend going.

“Thanks for coming over, you could stay longer”

“I’ve got to get back to Jeanie, she’s not well remember?” John smiled meekly.

“Oh right, yeah” Bruce nodded “sorry”

“See you at work, if you stop avoiding me” John winked with a laugh.

The man waved behind him as he jogged off down the stairs to get to the chauffeur. Alfred had offered to drive him home. Bruce was missing him already.

The gala was coming up and John went out emergency suit shopping.

He had returned to the mall, walking past the Ferris wheel he remembered fondly riding with Bruce, and up the escalator to said man’s favourite suit store. The shop was smaller than he remembered when entering it. But it didn’t need to be big. It was a custom tailor and the displays showed examples of materials and suits that could be made to your image, not prepacked ones to be sold in bulk.

The ceilings lights were orange and square, with a wooden fan for air-con. The place had brick walls and wooden floors, with oak display cases highlighting ties, bowties, jackets, shoes, and lots of other examples. A sleek dark wood counter with window displays of accessories sat to one side. The whole place screamed upper-class, and it looked just as great as it had before. John felt a little bit of imposter-syndrome again when he entered like he wasn’t deserving of this luxurious life.

The shop owner, the same man he had met before, approached him in a tweed suit that fitted his body to perfection. He was bald, wore glasses, and adorned a trimmed beard cut sharp just under his jaw. He was happy to see him again after they had gotten along before, with John being genuinely interested in the trade and debating over what makes a great suit.

“Have you come to be fitted today?”

John nodded, practically bouncing on the floor “Yes sir, I can’t wait!”

When he first came here, John had felt bad for keeping Bruce waiting. Therefore, he had just simply prowled around the store and picked out a suit on a display roughly in his size that the store manager had designed himself.

But now John wanted his own and with no one waiting for him, he could take as long as he wanted. He had told Bruce of his plans and the man had offered to let him use the card to his savings account to pay for it. Instead, he had asked for Bruce to give him his salary early, making them friends with salary benefits. Although Bruce still struggles to say the F word.

John stepped into the fitting room, he was taller than the store owner, and stripped off his coat and blazer, hanging them on a hook on the wall. The man got a long tape measure and pushed his glasses up his face.

“Hold your hands up to the side of you, please” he patted John's arms up.

“I warn you I’m ticklish” John giggled

“I knew you had fine taste Mr. Doe, as we seem to be sharing the same cologne”

John laughed “great minds think alike”

To get fitted for his jacket, his chest was measured, the tape was wrapped horizontally around him under his armpits and around the back of his shoulder blades. Then it was wrapped around his waist, circling to meet at his navel. Finally, there was the sleeve length, shoulder-length, and a measurement from the back of his collar down to his sacrum.

For the trousers, the circumference of his hips was measured, and then for the inner leg, the man bent down and measured from his crotch down to his ankle.

“At least take me out to dinner first” John joked, earning a chuckle from the man.

“You’d be my fourth one this week”

Going through the fabrics, John was very passionate to learn everything the shorter man had to say and enjoyed indulging in every bit of information he could get. Any material of high taste and worth John said yes to having, such as having Egyptian cotton for the shirt for durability.

The single button-up was recommended for John's suit jacket, as he had a skinny frame. Black, white, and navy were suggested for the overall suit colour. John chose the latter, a dark deep blue, the colour of Gotham’s midnight sky. It also complemented and highlighted his dark chocolate hair and walnut eyes.

The suit had jacquard weaving of intricately tiled diamonds, the pattern was silk and shined against the overall pure cotton material. The jacket had a dark black peak collar, giving him a villainous-like edge.

John went for a velvet bowtie, as he felt it gave him his quirky charm, not liking the boringness of a tie. It was pitch black to match the collar of his jacket.

Then for his shirt, he went basic choosing a pearl white colour with a semi-spread collar for his angular face, not wanting to overdo it, although it was tempting. His pocket square was onyx to match his jacket collar and bowtie but looking closely had a noticeable pattern of dark glistening polka-dots to give it a more extravagant edge. He also needed cufflinks, and his eyes were drawn to the diamond-shaped ones to match the suits weaving, he got them in gold.

He then needed something to spark the whole thing up and decided to pick a boutonnière. A dark deep blood red diamond-coloured rose, that would rest elegantly against his breast. The overall suit was dark and slimming and gave him a classy mysterious edge like expensive fine wine.

“They’ll believe the devil himself has arrived at the gala”

John smirked “Well, hopefully, I don’t cause too much trouble”

When the suit arrived a day before the gala, protected in a huge black shiny box with paper packaging, he immediately had to try it on.

He spun on a heel in front of Jeanie who was resting in bed.

“What do you think?”

She applauded. “Oh my god John, you look like a million dollars!”

“Care for a dance?”

“I’m not well dear but feel free to dance with Bruce on the dance floor”

She had no idea how close to home that hit and getting excited he jumped on her.

“Honey, don’t crinkle it up you just got it!”

On the day of the occasion, he met Bruce in the morning at his manor, as they had decided to make a whole day out of it. He wore casual clothing, with his suit in a bag to be kept safe until tonight. The door was opened by Bruce, who looked like an absolute mess.

“Ahahaha! What happened to you?!”

Bruce grunted, walking away from the door. He appeared to be in a foul mood. However, his trusty butler was there, and Alfred spoke for him, “Master Wayne had a rather dangerous fall the other night.”

“Fall?! What the hell did you do, climb the Statue of Liberty? Jump off Wayne tower?”

“He sleepwalked off the balcony”

“ahaha! I didn’t know you sleepwalked; someone needs to tie you to the bed”

“Master Wayne hasn’t had an occurrence like this in a long time”

“Well, how are we going to cover up all those cuts and bruises?”

Bruce grunted, “we’re not, I’m not going”

“What?! You can’t do this to me! It’s only a few cuts it can be covered up-“

“Be rest assured Mr. Doe that Master Bruce is going to the gala, whether he bloody well likes it or not.” Bruce groaned at Alfred and John scoffed at the older man’s discipline over the other.

“Master Wayne should have thought about his _sleeping issue_ , on the night before a very important event!” the butler glowered at Bruce then walked away displeased.

“Oh, you’ve got him mad. Come on we’ll fix you up together or hire some fancy makeup artist. Let’s get your butler happy with you again, hey?”

Bruce turned to give him a furious scowl as they made their way up the stairs then before he could deliver it collapsed to one knee.

“Augh!” Bruce clutched a hand to his waist.

“Bruce?”

The man didn’t answer, he just groaned out in pain.

“Is that- is that blood?” John's eyes went wide, the dark liquid was seeping through his shirt and onto his fingers.

“Don’t tell Alfred” Bruce hissed.

John ran to his side, falling to one knee and wrapping the other man’s arm around him to help him up the rest of the stairs. As they entered Bruce’s master bedroom, the man reached into his closet for a med kit as John quietly shut the door. Bruce sat on the edge of his bed and then took off his shirt.

“Swooo....Woah” John's eyes went wide. Bruce was absolutely decked to the halls in muscle.

“Cloth”

“Yes sir”

John reached for it out of the med kit and Bruce snatched the fabric from his fingers and covered it in some sort of anti-septic liquid. John started to notice his skin was littered with many scars, it was fascinating, and he started to think Bruce suffered a harder time than he let on.

“Bruce… what are all these?” he touched at one, a small scar on the tip of his shoulder.

“Alfred lied; I’ve fallen off the balcony a lot”

“I think you need the hospital...”

“No this is normal. It just needs a new bandage and some pressure. It’ll heal over.”

Bruce found it difficult to wrap the bandage around his waist without it sliding off, so John approached, placing a hand on one of his bulky shoulders, and then held the bandage in place as Bruce tightly wrapped it around him.

“Thanks”

“No problem” John's hand on his shoulder had slid down to feel his back, it was just as hard as his chest.

“I said I’m okay”

“Oh right, yeah.” John stuttered, reluctantly pulling his hands away from the man’s body. “So, did you get impaled or something on the way down?”

“I don’t even know; I was unconscious for most of it” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, I and Alfred have got this in the bag, we’ll help you get through this. I’m the best pa ever you know....” John smirked as he locked the balcony door, making Bruce roll his eyes.

“Hey what suit are you wearing?”

“I haven’t even thought of that yet...”

“Whaaaattt?” John couldn’t wrap his mind around that, it’s all he had thought about since being told he was going.

They stood in Bruce’s walk-in closet. The man was picking out a shirt to wear whilst John was staring at his abs, Bruce didn’t seem to notice, busy picking out clothes. He eventually picked one out and wrapped himself in it covering up the view making John frown.

“What do you think?”

“Well, it’s a start”

Bruce’s hair was mused up. The man really had a rough night and was completely not prepared at all for today.

As Bruce got changed in the bathroom, John had spotted the things Alfred had left up for Bruce to help him clean up and look somewhat presentable. On the silver tray was makeup, specifically a bottle of foundation, and next to it was a note with ‘Alfred x’ written on it.

He grabbed the foundation and poured it on his fingers then went over to a mirror and rubbed it under his own eyes.

“Darling, come try this”

“I don’t wear makeup”

“Don’t be a baby, tons of celebrity men wear makeup to look good. You definitely need some around the eyes sleepy face”

“I’m not wearing it!”

Well, someone's masculinity is easily threatened, John scoffed.

“WOW! I look so good in this”

Bruce peered out from the bathroom with a potent glare, annoyed that John had been using it on himself without asking.

“What? Just testing it.” John shrugged, then smiled “It really works” He was hoping that Bruce seeing him wear it would make him not feel so self-conscious. “See it's for men! It’s manly! Garr, I can still throw my fists and everything”

“Okay fine” he grumbled.

It ended with them sat on the bed and John helping him try to cover up the cuts on his face. John's elegant fingers were under Bruce’s jaw. His uncut nails digging into his stubbly chin as he rotated his face from side to side to get a good look at him.

“You’ve’ got a butt chin”

“You could stab me with yours”

“Hey, I didn’t say I hated it”

“Neither did I with yours”

Bruce’s eyes were closed, and he sat hunched and lax letting John get a good look.

“How bad is it?”

“Well, you’re probably still going to look butchered”

Bruce glowered, making John's fingers droop down with his frowning lips.

“But it’s better than nothing. I mean it’s that or looking like you’re on death's door.”

“Well, I don’t want people to ask if I’m dying”

John wiped it under his eyes and over the small scratches. The large cut on Bruce’s cheek wasn’t worth the hassle and wasn’t going to be covered up.

“You’ll need a plaster for that one” John stuck a finger in it and was shocked when Bruce didn’t flinch just batted his fingers away in annoyance. The man had a high pain tolerance.

“Are there such things as fashionable plasters?”

John laughed, “how about something bright pink?”

Bruce had a box of white skinny plasters that he went and put on in the bathroom mirror.

“Just say you got in a fight and look like a badass. Or hype me up and say I did it, out in the garden!”

Bruce nodded “yeah, I might consider it. Hey everyone, my PA beats me up”

“Sounds raunchy” John shrugged. “I’ll back you up with whatever you say. But nightly sleepwalking is reasonable, don’t be embarrassed about it.”

“come on let’s get ready and get this over with… oh” Bruce walked over to his drawer “I got you something”

Of course, Bruce would suck at the whole delivery of giving the gift, simply throwing a small white box by him then rubbing the back of his head and turning away with his face bright red. “Here you go”

“Thanks, you shouldn’t have” John chuckled, but Bruce had already gone back into the closet to change and hide away from his reaction.

John opened it up to find an incredibly fancy-looking gold watch. He fiddled with it between his fingers and was very impressed.

Bruce waited for John down in the foyer as it was nearing time to leave. The man came jogging down the stairs in his suit excited to go and Bruce’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. He was wearing a dark trimmed suit that hugged his body in all the right ways, his hair was styled perfectly, and he adorned the watch Bruce gave him as the gold matched his cufflinks.

“uh…”

“Come on let’s go!” John chirped, breezing past him out the door and into the car.

Arriving at a gala event was always a unique experience and the paparazzi was a nightmare. Bruce groaned at the idea of walking down the red carpet. Every time he promises himself, he would never do it again, he somehow ends up back in the same spot. With John being a guest, he didn’t have to go down it and Bruce couldn’t be more envious.

John was in the seat next to him, looking so divine Bruce started to question if he was real. He searched his jacket pocket for his phone and realised he had forgotten it as well as his wallet. He groaned, knowing he couldn’t call Alfred to pick him up early and was stuck there the whole night.

Alfred pulled up away from the main entrance, and John met up with his other co-workers, who all looked equally stunning and seemed to already be dreading any mishaps. They greeted him and rolled their eyes to John when he asked about the other board members. John smirked at him knowing how much Bruce was going to have to suffer to get inside. Bruce wished he could go with them.

He pushed through the red carpet, avoiding all interviewees and questions, and anyone recognizing him who wanted to talk and catch up, and somehow got it over within under ten minutes. He could be deceptive and unnoticeable when he wanted to be and used that to his advantage to slick his way through the main entrance doors, giving a nod to the waiter who stood by it.

The interior of the gala was lit up pink with dozens of tables coated in white tablecloths. A large crowd had formed with the majority of everyone inside and they stood huddled in their own friendship circles, talking to one another laughing with glasses of alcohol in their hands. Everyone was dressed in expensive suits and dresses, the true peak of the upper-class society. Living the great life as though Gotham wasn’t currently suffering from a crisis with the lower class and crime.

There were balloons around the room, and he knew that because he spotted John fiddling with one and trying to untie it from the stand it was linked to on top of a table.

“causing trouble already?” He joined him at his side,

“Me? Never”

“Leave it alone” He batted John's hand. Did this man honestly expect to walk around holding a balloon? Well to be honest, in that suit that man could probably get away with anything.

“Party pooper”

“I can’t believe I brought you along to watch me suffer, honestly you should just go and enjoy the night yourself”

“What and miss out on some great entertainment? Watching you gloom around the room is my highlight of the night”

Bruce grunted.

“At least try and pretend you’re having a good time, let’s put some more effort in. Come on, as PA I shall help you. First drinks. Onward!” He walked towards the buffet hands in his pant pockets. Tonight was going to be bad, Bruce could sense it.

Bruce followed John, yet again admiring how that suit was trimmed to perfectly hug around his shoulders, waist, and calves, and he was easy to follow through the crowd with his height. He nearly grabbed onto the man’s arm for a minute forgetting to keep his composure.

“I need to stay sober John” Bruce warned, as John prowled the selection of drinks.

A glass of red liquid was shoved into his hands from the other man, it was the non-alcoholic punch. Meanwhile, John held a glass of Rosé, a fancy-looking drink that when he brought it to his lips, made him look like he was the one running this whole gala.

Bruce's eyes were glancing around the room trying to spot the mayor. There was no sign of him anywhere so far. He was the reason why Alfred had ordered him to go. He had gotten a call from the Politian asking to have their discussions he’s been avoiding at the event, as then Bruce would have no excuses to not be there. Bruce Wayne always goes to the gala and if he didn’t turn up it would look obvious that he was avoiding him. He had run out of options. The mayor is wanting to take out the vigilante and he wants Wayne Tec to help him do that. To come up with some special equipment to specifically spot him and take the crusader out.

He was tugged by the sleeve by John, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I’ve found something to keep us distracted”

They approached the swamped gambling section, John walked over to the blackjack table with the dealer currently dealing handouts to three men sat there with glasses of alcohol. John's eyes lingered and carefully watched every move of the cards and hands of the dealer.

“Do you know how to play?”

“I’ve gambled a few times,” John smirked.

“Oh yeah?” Bruce took a swig of his drink. “Well, if you lose, it’s coming out of your wallet” as he had forgotten his.

The guy to the left end of the table lost all his biddings and scooted out from his stool with a slam of his fist to the table and a heavy sigh.

“Better luck next time rookie” John patted the man’s retreating back, “now watch how the pros play”

John's cockiness was already making him look like an idiot.

The extravagant man reached inside his stylish dark inner jacket pocket, causing diamonds to reflect in the light, and pulled out his wallet. He planted hundred-dollar bills on the table to trade in for some clay. He was going big. The dealer passed him a hand, John studying it, and then called for another card by curling two fingers. He then pondered, scrubbing his chin, and laughed, waving a hand to stick with his deck.

The dealer rolled his own deck over to reveal an 18 whereas John had a 19.

What? Bruce was shocked, as John was rewarded with double his bet and more.

The dealer continued around the rest of the table, the other two men lost their bets and every time it got to John he kept winning and didn’t stop. After twenty minutes a whole crowd had begun to form around them. Two men standing on either side of Bruce, peer over John's shoulder, sipping at alcohol as they calmly watched intrigued.

At one point John received his hand and planted two fingers on the board to signal to double down. The dealer planting a card horizontally above his two current cards, to signify it, as John pushed all his clay in. Then the dealer turned over his deck to lose to John's higher score again.

The crowd around the table applauded at his streak, John was on a roll. However, the man on the end of the table slammed his hands down, “That schmuck is a cheat!”

Oh no.

“Who?” John inquired, looking over his shoulder past him.

“You, you clown! He’s palming cards or- or working with the dealer!”

“You just have to have a quick mind to win at these things dear, sorry you can’t keep up”

“You bastard!” the man stood up and Bruce knew this was leading to trouble.

“I’m sure John here will hand you over his winnings” Bruce smiled his white teeth at him, placing a hand on John's lavish suited shoulder.

“This stuff’s just pocket change after all” Bruce joked, sending John a death glare from the corner of his eye to get him to go along with it.

John scowled at him.

The man approached John and Bruce waved a hand between them before he could grab at that gorgeous suit.

“Get that man checked out!”

“Well… here comes security,” Bruce noticed, standing in front of John to protect him from whatever the hell was about to happen.

The security came over and Bruce was certain they were actually going to check John over till they ended up grabbing the angry man instead and calmly escorted him away.

“Hey, that’s my PA!” The mayor yelled at the security.

Well, there was the mayor and they locked eyes with each other.

“Ah, so the man does appear but only when there are women and alcohol around”

Bruce glanced to John, who was gathering up his winnings into his arms with a wide smile. He knew it was time for him to get the worst part of the night over with.

“Be right back”

“hehe okay,” John winked at him.

“Sorry about all that,” Bruce said walking over to join the mayor, “I think we’ve all been overindulging on the free drinks”

“I don’t care about that. So, how’s it all coming along since last time we spoke?”

“How is…what coming along?” Bruce knew exactly what he was talking about.

“The plan I sent you, the tec. The stuff you said your company could make in a day”

“Oh, that… yeah…” Bruce hissed out a breath like he felt bad but didn’t at all, “turns out we can’t do it.”

“What?”

“We just haven’t got the technology for it I’m afraid” he drunk from his glass, looking anywhere but at the mayor.

“You’ve kept me waiting for a month. Just to tell me that?! and now you don’t even get me a poncy gift!”

“You didn’t want- “

The mayor went to grab him, hit him, Bruce didn’t even know but either way he dodged it causing the mayor to topple over face-first into the table behind him. Of course, it was also the table with the champagne tower on it.

Oh boy…

“Wayne!!!!”

Bruce secretly weaved out through the crowd, acting nonchalant to the whole event like that wasn’t his name being called out.

“Fresh air sounds really good right now,” He said to John who had just gotten his winnings in cash.

“Fine with me, partner!” John wiggled his brows, then his face dropped, and his eyes went wide.

What now?

“clean up on aisle Brucie” John pointed, at the dark liquid seeping through his shirt again. Looks like Bruce broke his promise to himself of no sudden sharp movements.

“Wayne are you alright?” one of his members from the board had followed him after the scene with the mayor.

“Jeeze, get a room! You want to marry him or something?” John covered for him, batting the man off and dragging Bruce away.

Bruce didn’t know where to go exactly, just that he needed to sneak out of here for a short while to recompose himself.

“Bruce, over here!” John called; he had found a fire exit door.

“John don’t open- “

It was too late, and Bruce groaned as he set the fire alarm off.

“Dam, that’s some fancy security…”

Bruce shoved him out the door and joined him outside. Quickly shutting the emergency exit as quickly as he could to turn the alarm back off.

“We need to get out of here before they find out we did that” Bruce beckoned, fingers to John's back as they walked down the path into the night air.

Bruce then began to go pale, he felt sick.

“John...you got me the non-alcoholic punch, right?”

“yeah…” they continued strolling down the path, lit up by bollard lights guiding their way. “…and a few drops of something else”

“Oh god, please tell me you’re joking-“

John shrugged.

Bruce’s eyes went wide “How much?”

“Well, I didn’t get why you were being such a spoilsport”

“It's because I took medication-” Bruce threw up into the extravagant potted topiary trees alongside the path.

“Worst gala night eveeeer!” John laughed wildly.

With neither of them having a cell phone and Bruce needing to mend himself quickly, they got themselves a room at a nearby hotel. No way were they staying here for the night, but Bruce was desperate to re-compose himself and so paid whatever it costed. He told John he'd pay him back tomorrow. John had helped him to the elevator and down the halls to the room. It was a luxury suite with a double bed.

John had his face pressed up against the glass of the window, hands cupped around the side of his face to block out the light and get a good view of what was going on down at the gala.

Meanwhile, Bruce was in the bathroom, re-dressing his wounds with a bandage John had run and bought down at the pharmacy store nearby. He had run for twenty minutes to get it whilst Bruce got the rest of the alcohol out of his system. John had also got on the payphone to Alfred and asked him to come and pick them up, saving the explanation for why later.

“I think they got a whole fire department down there!” John said laughing

Bruce washed his mouth out over the sink and spat the water down the drain. With a groan, he trudged out the bathroom and flopped backward onto the bed, his head spinning giving him vertigo.

“Well, this couldn’t get any worse” John laughed, climbing over Bruce’s body then rolling off to slide next to him. Their legs tangling together making Bruce's heart jump. The man was giggling, and Bruce felt bad for taking advantage of this innocent situation. He should be honest to John, that he still thinks about him in that way. The man propped his head up on an elbow and began to pick at the stray strands of cotton around Bruce’s buttons in the centre of his chest.

“I told you the galas were awful”

“We might as well have arrived naked at this rate, would have gotten the same reaction over with faster”

Bruce choked out a laugh, but at the same time felt like crying.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night. We should head back…” Bruce gritted out through the pain; he closed his eyes wanting to hide them from the light.

“Why do you run away all the time?” John whispered.

Bruce opened his eyes and looked at him, confused at the question. “I- I don’t know I just, want to be left alone”

“You don’t care about not having any friends?”

“Not really…” he lied.

“Well, what am I, still an acquaintance?"

“No of course not” “Bruce scoffed; shocked that John would even suggest such a thing.

“Friends?” He undid a button.

“W-we’re friends” Bruce stuttered.

John pushed a hand under his shirt, making Bruce’s breath hitch at the skin contact.

“John?“

The man leaned over him, and Bruce bared his weight.

“What are you doing?”

As John leaned forward, in a clear want to bring their mouths together, Bruce stopped him. Clasping a hand over the other man’s lips. Their noses were touching, and Bruce could see into the depths of the other’s eyes. His heart was erratic, and he can’t believe he managed to have the discipline and self-control to keep the most attractive man he could ever dream up off of him. The prison training coming into good use.

“You need to tell your wife”

“What?” John mumbled against his palm; the man’s own hand was still exploring deeper under his shirt.

“I knew it,” Bruce gasped, trying to sit up against John's grip but the man held him down with his weight. “This whole time you’ve been eyeing me up. Ever since we first met?”

“mhmmm….” John groaned, and then he laughed against his hand. Bruce could feel the vibrations down his wrist.

Bruce tried again to push him down onto the bed and break them apart. But John's weight on his chest kept him immobile as he was too ill and week to lift him, he couldn’t stop that devilish hand from exploring his skin, causing him to feel euphoria and suck in a breath.

“You’ve been playing me this whole time” Bruce breathed out.

“Have I?” He laughed wickedly, thumb pushing down on a nipple “Well… there was that time on the Ferris wheel, the constant touching and the holding hands was fun....”

Bruce’s eyes went wide, letting go of his face and grabbing John by his ridiculously lavish shirt, trying to shove him off again, actually angered rather than flattered. This man had been putting him through torture, for reasons he didn’t know why.

“Hasn’t it all been fun?” John chuckled with a wicked smirk, kicking his legs excitedly on top of Bruce’s, and moving his hand out from under Bruce’s shirt to stroke the stray strands of Bruce’s hair off his damp forehead.

“What about Jeanie?”

“What about her?”

“I thought…”

“Yeah, I did so too… but turns out I’m much more the other way than I thought” He purred, sinking against Bruce and breathing up his neck.

“You have to tell her”

“Well, aren’t you the noble one…”

“John”

“Sorry I’m just-” he buried his head under Bruce’s chin, his hair tickling his jaw and Bruce could smell the man’s hair gel. “Look it’s not like I’ve been wanting to betray her since the start. It was a slow build-up of emotions; the feelings became overwhelming and I- I _need_ you… “

“Please John, you know it’s the right thing to do. How would you feel if it was reversed?”

John laughed darkly at that, then after a moment's pause eventually gritted out “Fine, I will. If that makes you happy… I will” He sat up off him.

“It would make me very happy”

“Wow, this night couldn’t be any more of a drag…” The man groaned, his hands sliding through his hair. He seemed to be struggling a lot more with his own self-control.

Bruce could finally sit up, and he wrapped his arms around the man, practically sinking against him he felt so out of it.

“Thanks, John…” the alcohol giving Bruce a headache and making him fall asleep. John's cologne was also doing wonders with making him feel tired. His head falling limp and rolling forward on the man’s shoulder, passing out.

John lowered him back down to the bed. Got up and kindly removed Bruce’s shoes so he could rest more comfortably. He dumped them to the side.

“Don’t go anywhere”

Bruce groaned falling unconscious, as John left out the door.

“Hey Jeanie, I- I think we need to break up... no no... that uh- hey Jeanie listen... I’m leaving you for my boss- crap!”

John was walking round in circles by the payphone in the hotel lobby. He thought he’d never find himself in this situation. He was loyal, he had been his whole life, but Bruce was someone out of his dreams that he believed would never become real and now that he was, how could he be expected to keep his hands off him?

No matter what, he was the villain in this situation.

Why did Bruce have to be such a white Knight?! They could be having way more fun right now! He gritted his teeth. He should just go home and talk to her...

No- that would be so much worse! Then he’d have to see her face!

John dialled the phone, his heart sinking as the line beeped, then eventually a policeman answered the phone.

“Hello?” John was confused.

“Sir, I need you to come home right now there’s been an accident.”

John went slack against the payphone as he continued to listen to the officer’s words. After the speech he stuttered out an “I’ll be right there”.

Leaving Bruce waiting in the hotel room.


	4. Awakening

John dashed through the streets filled with bustling crowds in the dead of night. The air was freezing cold, but it didn’t touch his skin with how distracted he was. He knocked past people, nearly toppling a few over, strangers who were enjoying a Sunday night out on the town with the gala going on nearby. Roseate rays of light beamed into the black heavens of the sky, highlighting the ongoing event. Weaving between lampposts and dangerously spurting across streets, he needed to find a taxi. His head spiraled around his neck as he looked for one, making his vision nothing more than an unsteady blur causing him to feel sick.

He noticed someone had managed to nab one, the yellow motor pulling up beside them, a tire sinking in a puddle. As they opened the door he climbed in before they could, slamming it shut and throwing hundred-dollar bills from his winnings at the driver to take him to 6th avenue as fast as possible where Jeanie needed him.

Arriving home, he bolted out of the taxi before it could come to a complete stop and barged his way through the front gate causing it to smash against the brick wall beside it nearly breaking it into pieces. He paced down the path of their cramped front garden and beat the door with his knuckles hoping for an answer as he found the door was locked tight. The street was dead silent. He got his key out, fingers trembling around it, as he rammed it through the lock, practically snapping it in two as he turned it harshly not caring of breaking the bloody door off its hinges if he had to. Once he got inside, he ran through the disorganized kitchen which was empty, and scorched up the stairs. Past all their moving boxes and packed items awaiting a new future.

“Jeanie?!” He shouted up the busted wooden staircase, he made it to their bedroom, opening the door so hard it slammed, causing dust to drop from the ceiling. It was empty.

There was no one here, no one in the house, where had they taken her? John was confused.

He slid back down the stairs, tripping down them and clambering to his feet again once he reached the bottom. Breaking out the front door, he went to the nearest payphone that was five minutes away. The one where he had tried to call Bruce as he held his number between his shaking fingers.

“Yeah hi... where did you take my wife?” he had dialled the police, desperate to find Jeanie’s location. Confused why they wouldn’t have left behind a note or anything to signify her whereabouts.

“Sir, we cannot find a report...”

“What do you mean there’s no report?!”

When the police weren’t giving him the answers he craved, he slammed the telephone down hastily in a rush. He needed to get to the nearest hospital. That’s likely where she’d be.

He strode his way into the hospital, sprinting straight to the reception desk, skipping past the entire queue. He didn’t have minutes to spare and ignored the people scolding him. He was out of breath, sweating and breathing erratically. His hair sticking to his forehead as he pleaded with the staff to put an end to his search.

“Sir there isn’t a Jeanie we can find here-“ the receptionist reported, she wanted to help, he could tell, he could see her concern.

“GAH!” he was furious, throwing the files off the counter and running out at the speed of lightning. Thinking of whatever hospital was next. He ran to it, calculating that trying to pull a cab would take longer.

After the third hospital was found empty too, he felt like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. His legs were giving out, and his body was screaming at him to stop moving. This is insane! How could she just disappear like this without a trace?! Like the world was hiding her from him?!

He couldn’t believe this, and he found himself wanting to do something dangerous. He wanted to tear the whole street up or start a fire to alert the whole of Gotham that Jeanie had gone missing. Finding her should be the world’s first priority, just as it was for him.

John found himself tripping over things that weren’t there and walking through walls. This always happened before he was about to do something rash. Something atrocious. Something that had Jeanie screaming at him, begging him to stop. With her not being here to prevent him, he needed to control himself.

He flew to another hospital, a very specific one, Arkham asylum. The white walls of the building familiar and he remembered the warmth of the receptionist there. Seeking that, he barged through the main entrance, flinging the double doors open with a bang causing the people inside to snap their head towards him. He must look out of his mind. Security reached for their gun and he was at the reception desk in a blink of an eye.

“I’m going to do something really bad, I-I need help!“ John said sincerely, begging, pleading.

“Hold on-“

“RIGHT NOW!” he slammed his fists against the counter. Making everything on it jolt up in the air.

He was taken to a room; they were nice to him once he had calmed down and brought his gentle side out again. He was left pacing in circles, scratching and itching at his face and body clueless on how his world was turning upside down so fast after it had been going so well.

The door leading out of the room was open. He felt like he could leave at any time and then one of the doctors came in. The lady he had met before at the desk, wore the same beaded glasses and had recognised him.

“Mr. Doe, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my wife Jeanie anywhere! T-there was an accident... here’s her photo-” he shakily withdrew his wallet from his expensive jacket that had gotten damp, and mucky with how reckless he had run through the streets. The diamonds weaving losing their sheen. He pried out the photo of him and Jeanie on their wedding day, trapped in-between the lush leather, and handed it to the doctor.

She nodded and stared at it.

John waited.

Then he waited some more.

“Well?” He snapped, trying to get her to say something and ease his damn mind.

“There’s no one in this photo”

What? He snatched it back.

“yes, there is! I’m staring right at her!” John shouted, glancing to it again between trembling fingers. He saw Jeanie’s face. It was so vivid.

He then starts laughing pathetically. “The police the hospital- now... now you...?! it’s like- it’s like you’re all trying to get me to think I’m crazy or something!”

“John, take a minute to breathe...”

“No no- who do you take me for? I, who’s been with her for years, is wrong? This is ridiculous!”

He stared at the photo, the doctor, and then the door.

“I need to get out of here! God no wonder people go mad in here! You guys are no help at all!” he yelled furious, as he stormed out of the white room before she could catch his shoulder to stop him.

He whisked through the hallway and barged out the double doors as he went to take his leave. The security tried to stop him, walking towards him like ghosts with their hands out and that’s when he pegged it, ducking under their arms. He pushed past one of the gentlemen in white at the main door who didn’t see him coming, sending him flying. He escaped, running past the black spiked gates. His shoes gliding across the concrete and breathing erratic.

As he staggered into an alleyway to hide and catch his breath, in hopes of bringing him back down to earth, he checked the photo again as he leaned against the bricks. The gothic buildings around him cast a shadow over it, so he couldn’t see it. He ran to stand under a lamppost instead, the yellow light directly shining onto it, but nothing changed. Why was it still black?! Why could no light get the picture to show again?!

What the hell was real if Jeanie wasn’t real?! Was Bruce even real?! No... no!!

John ran down the streets to find a payphone, it had started to rain heavily, and the droplets hit his face stinging his cheeks as he moved against them. He found one through the darkness and went to call Bruce. Rain pouring down, soaking his clothes and dripping off his chin, his hair wet and flat on his face. He ran a hand through it to get it off his eyes and sweep it back. If he had made Bruce up then he’d be ruined for sure!!

He rang the number he knew off by heart, fingertips slipping on the dials, the line beeped as he waited for Bruce to pick up the phone.

No, wait!

John dropped the phone he couldn’t even risk it! He didn’t want to know!

He ran back home; he was in a state of frenzy underlined with unrecoverable madness. It was inconceivable, to be asked to believe something you always thought was there, had never existed at all.

He entered his home again by kicking the door open as he had never locked it on his way out, letting rain blow into the hallway. His heart dropped, he thought he had stepped into the wrong house. Nothing of Jeanie’s was there. None of her clothes, none of the moving boxes, no dishes for two. He doubled checked the number outside the house, to guarantee it was his. The tile read number eight and had the same cracks and scuffs as it always did. It was their home but at the same time, it wasn’t. Just… what the hell was this place?

John looked around the shattered house, his shoes squeaking against the wet floor. It had been trashed and vandalised. Paint on the walls and graffiti of just nonsense! None of it made any sense.

The walls and the carpet were torn up. The chairs were dismantled and turned into some weird statue of absurdity. ‘Ha Ha!’ was written on the walls, the only bit of graffiti that made sense, except there was nothing here to find funny at all. He went up the stairs but then stopped himself not wanting to even go up there… how much worse could it get?

Had the house been broken into and ruined within the space of him going to the asylum? No… no even he knew that was impossible. But more importantly, there was no evidence of Jeanie as though, as though the police had taken her and everything to do with her with it. But how can that be when it had all been here moments ago?!

Did the police ever show up? Had they even been on the other end of the phone?!

This can’t be happening.

He headed down the path on his usual way to work, before meeting Bruce, before he ever thought of his life being nothing more than a wish-wash of memories. Back when everything was normal. He tried to relive the old life he had started to leave behind. He looked up at a gargoyle, streaks of rain made it look as though it was crying. He needed to regain some familiarity. He noticed the old newsstand was there, and it was real, he could touch it-

“Hey, keep your hands off that!” a stranger shouted through the dark storm.

John immediately let go, his fingers nearly getting frostbite at having touched the metal. He picked up his pace again, escaping out of view from the world as he weaved himself through familiar alleyways. The snow had turned to sludge, causing him to stagger a few times. Had he even worked at ace chemicals?

“What the hell are you doing around these parts?!” a disturbing man snapped at him from between the shadows, as a group of men surrounded him. Oh no, not tonight… of course his life would end like this!

“This guy looks like a lunatic!”

“An easy target”

John's vision was blurry, making it look like there were double of them than there actually were. He was grabbed and planted against a wall, as his pockets were searched, and he was robbed. No… his photo… he kicked his legs out and ground his teeth. His one evidence of Jeanie existing-

He was socked around the face, knocking him down like he weighed a ton of bricks.

Then police sirens were heard.

“Let’s bounce!” the men said terrified and ran away leaving John stranded. He groaned, his nose against the concrete burned and he sat up to feel it, it was busted. It hurt to touch. He was also sat in a puddle and his suit was ruined. Clambering to his feet, like a new-born foal, he turned to find that instead of chasing after the men, the flashing police car was after him. They must be on the search for him since his incident at the asylum. The headlights blinding his eyes.

Oh no.

He needed to hide, and he turned to see in the distance, a building he knew how to get inside. His escape to freedom. John ran down an alley, taking an alternate route to the muggers. His heart racing as his hand pushed on the ice-cold metal door, coated in rust and grime like the rest of him. He put all his weight against the door knowing it wasn’t locked just stiff to move. There was no security in this place, it was practically trashed and abandoned. God knows why they have people working here.

“gaaahhh!” he wailed as he heaved the door open. “come on!”

He managed to get it to crack open and eventually create a large enough gap for him to slip through. The edge of the door scraping on his nose sending pain down his face.

It was dark inside the factory, it felt like a place out of a horror movie. Drips were heard with rain easily pouring through the ceiling tiles. The place was built out of metal, pipes, and bars littering the place. John was gripping his bruised face. It was easy to get in with the place being shabby and run down. There were no safety precautions, he knew that as they had told him to never speak of it.

How has his night come to this?!

He wanted to be back with Bruce in the warmth of that hotel room, he should never have left. Why did he have to always pull his weird stunts?! He could have stayed resting by his side, huddled against him. Bruce could have helped him get through this; he should have asked him to.

There were two officers outside the building now. He knew as he could peer out the open window that had no glass, with it having broken apart years ago. A heavy draft blew inside making his soaking wet body feel as though it was going to freeze over. His suit was damp and stuck to him. Bruce’s watch was like a comforting hand around his wrist, but it was futile. He wasn’t getting out of this. There wasn’t anywhere to escape,

An officer patrolled the outer area as one came inside. John spotted him, he was aiming a gun in the air, uniform drenched, he felt like they were going to shoot him.

“Don’t shoot!” he shouted terrified and scared. “please!” He begged, revealing himself on the upper floor, holding his hands up. A metal barricade between them. The tips of his fingers had blood on them, from his running nose.

The police officer jumped from down below and turned around to face him, aiming their gun higher to paint him as their target.

“We’re not going to shoot! Just stay calm and put your hands above your head!”

Through the injury, he could smell the rusted pipes around him, and that’s all he’ll ever be smelling locked up in some cage. They’re going to take him to the looney asylum! He’s going to be locked away forever as they throw away the key! He’s going to be left all alone with no one! His life over- never to see daylight again! Just him and his disordered mind consuming him!

“You’re going to lock me up, aren’t you?!”

“No, please come down! It’s alright!”

If it was alright, why wasn’t the officer lowering his gun? He looked terrified of him!

The officer started making his way up the metal stairs, his boots clanging against them. He hoped he slipped down them. John looked around and started to panic. His pulse pounding in his ears. The options of escape looked dire. He probably wouldn’t live if he tried them. But being dead was sure better than this.

“John!” the officer shouted, knowing his name, as he ran up the stairs eventually making it to the top to find no one there.

Bruce was confused about where John was. He hadn’t seen him last night and he hadn’t wanted to invade the man’s privacy and trail him home as that was just weird. Alfred had picked him up, dangerously concerned where the other man had gone to. Bruce was torn, his guess was the man had gotten cold feet either telling Jeanie or committing to Bruce in a relationship.

But Alfred was right, what if he was drunk and had got lost somewhere in the city? Bruce should have taken more care of him. The paintings punishing him hard last night. He couldn’t get in contact with the man as he didn’t have a cell phone and Bruce was over worrying as he had never done before.

That’s when he had got the call from Arkham about his PA.

“What the hell is John doing in Arkham Asylum?!” he had shouted down the phone at her, not caring at how his anger made her scared.

Bruce was appalled and outraged, he needed to get John the hell out of there right now, that place was for no one like him!

Bruce drove there on a warpath. Sprinting up to the entrance in his long coat and sharp shoes, looking like an idiot but he didn’t care.

“Bruce!” the receptionist recognised him at the desk. She had a face of deep worry and concern. “You don’t want to see him-“

He didn’t acknowledge her.

Having built the place, he knew exactly where to go. He strode down the white halls, heels digging into the plastic flooring. A security guard placed a hand on his chest to stop him from continuing his ministrations. Bruce laughed, batting the hand off, the man had no strength compared to him.

“Let me see him! This is ridiculous, you can’t just lock someone up, an innocent civilian that’s done no harm! He’s not some criminal, some prisoner!”

He found the room, mainly because it was the only one of the few with its doors shut and another member of security by it. With the facility being newly built, John must be one of the first under ten here.

“John?! John!” He tried to open the door, but it was locked tight. His hand holding the polished metal handle, it was hard to get a firm grip as he yanked it.

“Mr. Wayne!” The staff member approached him. “You’re not supposed to be here-“

“I’m here for a friend, not a business visit!” He clutched both hands on the handle, one foot on the wall as he tried to rip the door off its hinges.

He spotted John through the hatch. He could see him resting under the white bed sheet covers.

“John, you need to get out of here right now! This place... this isn’t for you…this is for the insane!” he called through the door, letting him know he was there and here to save him. The man’s head didn’t perk up at all making his heart stop.

Bruce noted signs of abuse on him...

“What have you done to him?!” he cried out, horrified. He couldn’t think clearly.

The staff members around him, stared at him astounded, unsure whether they could touch him with his celebrity status.

Bruce looked to them, his hands still gripping the handle and one-foot placed firm on the wall. His boiling blood making his body tremble. He spotted a guard who had a set of too many keys dangling from his black belt. He approached the man, causing the other to take a step back, terrified of him.

“give me your keys “

“Sir- you’re not-“

“Who owns this fucking place?” he snapped, grabbing them so hard it ripped the man’s belt strap it was hooked to and he walked back over, rattling the one with the matching number to the door through the lock.

He was getting John out of here.

He barged through the door and made it to John's side... what the hell is going on? John was dozed out of it and he spun him around in his arms. He looked unrecognisable. But Bruce had engrained all his features into his mind and the man wore that face he couldn’t forget.

“Mr. Wayne it’s unsafe to touch him-“

Bruce scoffed so hard at that statement. They didn’t know anything! He didn’t believe any of this. John was fine, John is a great man. He’s funny and hilarious. He’s the guy at the bar that asked him how he was doing after a bad day. He was hope in the darkest of times he’s not... this!

He grabbed John by the legs and hauled him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. With one arm wrapped around John, the other was free to reach for the door, letting them both out. He could feel the man’s arms swaying limply against his back.

“Next time, you call me right away...”

John was slowly coming out of it.

His hands were still in silver cuffs as Bruce couldn’t get them off. He'll figure it out when they get home. But everything else was fine... it was all going to be fine.

Driving his sleek black sports car, they both rested comfortably against the plush heated leather. If Bruce was going over the speed limit he didn’t care. He just wanted to get John back home safe.

“…Bruce?”

John?!

“It’s me buddy...” he placed a hand on John’s shoulder, his eyes still keeping track of the road. Then he slid his arm down to grab at the other man’s hand. John's fingers were freezing, and he gave them a squeeze to heat them up.

Hearing his voice made him want to get back faster. He felt like he was running out of time. For what? He didn’t know. But he took the back roads, knowing shortcuts thanks to his prowling in the night as the vigilante.

Arriving at the manor, Bruce got out of the car and strode around it to open John's side.

“Can you get out? Do you need help?” Bruce placed a hand on the man’s shoulder again.

There wasn’t much of an answer just murmuring but John did get out of the car. Bruce slid one of his hands to hold on to the man’s waist for dear life, letting him lean into him for support. He was ready at any minute to catch him if they tripped up, as they made their way up the stairs. God, who needed so many stairs?!

John collapsed halfway up them, Bruce catching him. He bent down and picked John up again, this time by wrapping John’s arms around his neck as he then grabbed him from under the thighs and lifting him. Hauling his weight against him. Managing to carry him the rest of the way.

They got to the door Bruce kicking it with his foot, taking the paint off with it, as now both of his arms were holding John. The man was slack and limp against him, drooling down the back of his neck.

“Alfred!!!” he pleaded, his voice breaking out of desperation.

Alfred answered the door. “Master Bruce? Mr. doe... oh my-“

“Help him now Alfred!” Bruce begged, shoving them both through the door.

“Bruce… what the bloody hell have you done?”

There was a leather couch in the foyer that Bruce dumped him on, he nearly went toppling down with him, falling to his knees before him. John had gone completely slack now. It was hard to carry him and he wanted to check to see if he was okay.

“He’s hurt look at him!” He ran a finger under his nose, that had dried blood.

“We’ll get some bandages for Mr. Doe, but right now you need to explain to me why Arkham’s on the phone telling me you just broke in and robbed a staff member of their keys. I repeat the line, ‘I fucking own the place’…”

“He was hurt!” Bruce said, standing up confused and realising the irrationality of his actions. “They weren’t treating him properly... What if he was dying?!”

“Master Bruce-“

“I- I couldn’t get to him! What was I supposed to do?!” he barred his teeth.

Alfred stared at him unamused.

“Look at him!” Bruce cried, he ran to John's side again cupping his chin in his hand, turning his face over in his palm studying his skin.

“What have they done to him?!”

His fingers ran through the man’s locks that were bright green, spreading the hairs apart to check the root to see how far the dye went.

“Hehehe…”

John was laughing… was he awake? Was this all just a joke? He shook the man. He didn’t care if he hurt him, he had to wake up!

“John wake up!”

“....hahahahah!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Bruce’s eyes went wide.

“Maybe if you left the doctors at Arkham to figure that out, we would know. Master Bruce, you need to take him back immediately! He is a patient-“

“He’s a friend! He’s staying right here and I won’t let him go-“

“BRUCE THIS IS SERIOUS!” Alfred cried, his face of one of worry and concern. Bruce realised the man wasn’t ordering him around nor was he angry, he genuinely believed the best place for John was back at the hospital.

The staff members had pried John from Bruce’s reluctant arms as they arrived. Two security guards simply carried him from under the armpits, dragging him away. Slack feet scrapping against the new floors causing them to squeak.

He sat in the waiting room for hours unable to see him, his foot drumming on the shiny plastic floor. He was riddled with anxiety, he felt like he was going to detonate. He might start going mad himself in a minute, he had every reason to. He had his face in his hands groaning into them when the doctor arrived, a calming and reassuring hand to his back telling him it’s going to be alright and he can see John now.

Bruce entered the room. John was unconscious in bed, tucked under white sheets again. It was cold and he shut the window by sticking his hand through the steel bars. He was told he could stay here for as long as he wanted, now that John was deemed safe and stable. As if he wasn’t before.

Bruce stayed the night.

He stood removing his watch, shoes, jacket, and tie. Climbing into the single bed, he rested behind John and wrapped his arms around him. The man had remained barely conscious. Just voicing mumbles and distressed murmuring. He seemed to be lost in his mind.

Bruce nuzzled his nose into his hair. It didn’t smell of his usual hair gel, but of a horrible tang. It irritated his nose, but he didn’t care. The strands that were flicking up over his eyes were bright green and he studied them. It was nothing he couldn’t dye, that is if he even wanted to. Bruce was just so relieved he was alive. His hand moving to clutch at John's heart through his shirt, he felt it beating against his palm and he pulled their bodies closer, long legs entangling with each other.

He just needed to hear him talk, to form sentences. So, he could listen to that mind again that made him so happy. He didn’t care if it meant John screaming down the mall.

Holding John was the greatest teddy bear Bruce has ever had. Giving him all the comfort in the world despite his current situation. He knew the man could get back from this.... he could get back from anything. Bruce needed him to because he couldn’t afford to lose him.

John eventually woke up, Bruce stood casually in the ghostly room like the world wasn’t ending and everything was completely fine and nothing to worry about. He had a hand in his pant pocket and was sipping at a coffee that he needed to keep him awake as he had stayed up watching John the night before. He had only gotten a few hours’ sleep resting against the man.

“Ugh... my head…” John groaned, squinting his eyes against the harsh light. Finding it difficult to open them, after it had been so long.

Bruce was so happy to hear his voice.

John eventually blearily opened his eyes. Bruce catching them and noticing they were bright green now. Almost radiating. Woah.

The doctor stood nearby, and a nurse was by the door holding a mirror.

“Perhaps we should wait,” Bruce said, escorting the staff member out the door, practically shoving her out, and slammed the door in her face. He needed this to go smoothly.

John held his arms up to his face, noticing his changed appearance for himself, rotating his palms and studying them. Bruce wondered if he even believed what he was seeing, it would be reasonable to deduce it as another delusion.

If John was more himself, he probably would have made a joke about looking deathly pale.

“What happened?” John whispered confused. barely able to talk loud enough to hear him.

He had thrown himself down the chemical vat is what happened, out of fear of getting shot. Batman wouldn’t have been a threat; Batman would have saved him. This city keeps blowing his mind on how low it can sink.

John sat up and leaned forward.

“You’ll be taken care of here, with us, Mr. doe. We’ll look after you, and you’ll be out of here in no time” the doctor smiled warmly at him.

That perked Bruce up and he was happy to hear it.

The doctor placed a hand on John's forehead pushing him back against the pillows, asking him to follow her finger as she proceeded to do basic checks.

He couldn’t keep up with them.

“I know your memory isn’t doing very well so we’ll work on that and start making you remember as much as possible...”

John groaned, shaking his head. Not liking the idea of that at all.

Bruce was surprised and was torn on whether to agree with him or not.

“Let’s not push him to do anything rash. He’s gone through a hard time as it is. Doesn’t he need a break? Somewhere familiar?” Bruce offered.

“The best place for Mr. Doe right now is here, where doctors can keep track of him”

Bruce frowned, “Well, I’m staying all the way”

John smiled at hearing that.

“Do you hear that John? You’ll be out of here in no time.” Bruce patted a friendly hand on his shoulder, not going any further with the doctor in the room.

“Bruce!” It seemed like the man had just managed to recognise him, at least he hadn’t forgotten him. Those eyes had the same wildness to them as they had before, and his smile was no less goofy.

“I love you” John purred, rolling his head against his forearm to lay limp there.

Well, there goes the secret John had sworn to keep. But he was out of his mind right now and Bruce internally kicked himself for not seeing that coming.

“He’s not very aware right now,“ the doctor cut in, coming up with an explanation for what seemed like an insane act.

“No, it’s....” Bruce stuttered. To help with Johns’ recovery it’s probably best he’s honest with the doctors. “We’re seeing each other ... it’s complicated.”

“Oh, okay” The doctor was writing on a form.

“Yeah, it’s not a delusion. You should know that. I’m trusting this is all confidential?”

“Yes” she nodded, standing up “it won’t leave this room.”

John rolled his head back seeming to drift off again.

To be honest, Bruce didn’t care if the secret got out, he had decided John was who he was going to spend the rest of his life with anyway. He just wants it to be done carefully and strategically, with it having no effect on their relationship.

He was never going to find another man like John, and he felt destined to be with him. Bruce was going to help him through this no matter what it took.

“Ahaha! What the hell Bruce!”

It was only a matter of time before John saw himself. Bruce had left the facility for a short time and came back to find John had gotten up wanting to have a shower. Except he seemed to have gotten caught up by the bathroom mirror.

Bruce had wanted the facility to feel more like a care home rather than a prison. The white rooms for inmates all came with a window, bed, and an ensuite. Being in them now with John, he was happy to see it felt just like that.

He walked in to find him prying at his hair. With them being somewhat in this odd unmentioned relationship. Bruce didn’t cover his eyes when he stepped in to find John shirtless.

Bruce admired his lean body, but it was combined with the shock factor of his skin being pale all over, blending in with his white trousers the staff had given him. He glanced back up to John twiddling a curl around his finger.

John noticed him and being body conscious, crossed his arms over his chest, blushing. The red flush of his cheeks was easy to make out with the rest of him being so ghostly.

“Do you like it?” Bruce asked.

“Uh, do you?” John eyed him with a worried expression.

He didn’t care, he was just so happy and glad to see the man back as his usual self again, his personality all intact and safe from harm. Bruce felt good, looking upon him again.

“Of course, I don’t mind. Oddly enough, the hardest difference is your eyes. But you’re still just you at the end of the day” Bruce said. Wondering what John would make of him in a bat suit.

“Imagine styling this! Ahah!” John laughed, turning back to the mirror running all ten fingers through his hair and lifting it to stand on all of its ends. Bruce could notice how it's likely permeant.

“We’ll get you out of here, god this place is dull”.

It was no place for John. He couldn’t think of a worse building to contain all that energy, even Bruce would grow bored here. So far John seemed sane enough… hopefully he’d get out soon.

“So, is it true… is Jeanie not real?”

Bruce wasn’t sure. He had never met her but how John spoke of her, she sounded real enough. But there are no records of her ever existing anywhere. Neither were their records for John though. He had found that out when he gave in and searched him on the bat computer when he went missing. They’ll talk about that later.

“No… she’s not”.

“Jeeze…” John rubbed the back of his head, “I could have really sworn she was”

“Who else has met Jeanie?”

John swallowed, “Her family…?”

The doctor had explained to him that it was likely John had been so alone, he had come up with a whole figment for himself. Bruce had hidden his face in his hands, needing a minute after hearing that. He hated how he could relate to it. He didn’t think his heart could break in two again after his parent’s death.

“Well, other than her, are there any other problems?”

“None that I can think of-“

“They said your house was trashed; do you think that was really burglars?”

John visibly swallowed.

“I … I don’t know…” he scrunched his eyes, his head seemed to start to hurt.

“Hey… don’t worry about it,” he kept John's hands off his face and nudged his chin up with two knuckles. Then he stroked the strands of hair off his face, smartening him up and putting him back together.

“I- I just want to get out of here too.” John drawled as he slouched with a sigh, “I mean I feel fine…”

Bruce agreed, so what if none of it was real? He wasn’t any danger to society and if Bruce took care of him, he could make sure John never fell into that trap again.

“You know it’s funny I- sometimes the doctors here don’t even look like people”

“How do you mean?”

“It may be just my vision playing up but… I can’t really describe it… it’s like I could throw something at them, and It would go through them like smoke”

“Well don’t do that. No throwing.” Bruce said it’s probably just the medication.

“God my nose hurts…”

Bruce, walked out for a minute to grab the emergency med kit off the wall, it wasn't filled with anything sharp. Then returned and patted the sink signaling John to jump up on it, “Sit up”

He glanced out the bathroom door double-checking no one was there. He still had a habit of wanting to remain secretive.

John sat up on the sink, his limbs dangling over the edge. His hands rested sandwiched between his legs and Bruce batted them away so he could walk in-between them. He fiddled with the bandage on John's nose, to check if it was all good under there.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little… those guys came out of nowhere…”

“Can you remember where?”

“Not really… why?”

“Because they won’t be walking away when I’m done with them”

John laughed.

Bruce wiped the sleep from under his eyes that he noticed was there, then stuck a new plaster on.

“There, all better.”

“Yeah…” John sighed a heavy breath, “I should have blocked!” he raised his forearms over his face.

I should have been there. Bruce thought darkly.

“Hey… milkshake?” He had gone out to get food for them, as no way was he letting John eat what was ever here. He knew the man survived off surgery things after all. He had gotten him the chocolate swirl.

“Oh, you know me too well!” John smiled bouncing off the sink and forgetting about his shower, “aw, now I miss the Ferris wheel… god this place blows!!” He looked irritated over being stuck here as he grabbed his white shirt off the floor and slid it over his head.

Bruce didn’t tell him he put the medication in the drink as the doctors had recommended.

John clambered on the bed and lied down on his back drinking his milkshake. Bruce threw him his cell phone for him to play snake on as he waited with him for the doctors. The usual routine between them.

The doctors told Bruce the news on what was going to happen to John first. He seems to have been given the role of a guardian with there being no one else. Now he knows how Alfred feels like.

He was told that John needs to stay here for goodness knows how long.

That’s when he decided Batman was breaking him out of here and they’re going to run away and mysteriously go missing for real. Then he was going to rethink how to handle the insane because this clearly isn’t right.

When Bruce told him, kneeling in-between Johns legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. John simply rubbed at his face harshly, groaning at the news.

Bruce’s grip was incredibly strong as he held the man’s wrists down to his thighs.

“There’s nothing wrong with you...” Bruce said, looking deep into his eyes.

“Really? My whole life people have told me I was crazy. Can they all be wrong and I’m right? You’re saying that’s really possible....”

“People say lots of things are wrong, next year it’s not ... don’t base things on what other people think”

John laughed at that.

“What matters is you are not harming anyone... that includes yourself...”

“Bruce... you’re the one friend I’ve had that hasn’t ditched me… “

“John, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had”

“At the hotel did- you weren’t too drunk to remember that were you?”

Bruce scoffed, “no “

He held John’s hand.

“I said I’d take things further with you and this hasn’t stopped it. Haven’t you figured it out yet that you’re never getting rid of me?” He smiled at John.

John smirked. Laying back on the bed as Bruce leaned over him, joining their lips together in a proper kiss. John ran his fingers through his hair, pulling him down further. He ended up on top of him.

John was so much fun to kiss, he could feel the excitement from the man radiating off him as they brought their mouths together. The man’s lips were soft, and he felt the fingers through his hair pulling him closer, seeking to make them inseparable. He aligned their bodies to help with that idea.

John was the first to pull them apart, both of them sharing the same air as they paused to take a breath. John's lips were left tinged red.

“Bruce…”

Bruce looked into those bright green eyes.

“…I think I’m insane”

“No. No, you’re not!” Bruce shoved them apart sitting up and kneeling on John's lap. He was in denial and needed Alfred, he’s been avoiding the man ever since this whole thing happened. He felt Johns breathing under his hand. The man’s ribcage expanding and pulse beating, it jumped every few seconds. Delayed and slowed compared to his own erratic one.

“It was nice knowing you… but let’s be real, I’m not getting out of here… and I don’t want you sticking around for that.”

Bruce couldn’t believe this… he buried his head into John’s chest. Was he going to cry? Bruce felt like it, but he never did. He barely did over his parent’s death. He just bottled it all up. He could feel it coming undone and he needed to run out of the room. To get entirely out of Gotham’s radius, so he could be completely left alone, away from this nightmare!

The problem was, John was holding on to him. Keeping him in place.

“Hey Brucie, it hasn’t been all bad... we got to have good times… I appreciate you doing what you did for me but... this is just how it was always going to end-”

Bruce punched the wall above his head in response.

“Woah!” John sat up abruptly, bringing them close together again for just another moment's breath, spiraling his head round to see the hole Bruce had left in the concrete.

Then the man’s lap was empty. Bruce stormed out of the place, clenching his fists. Enraged as he had been on that cursed night when he lost his first loved ones. Anger was making his blood boil, the one emotion that kept him an inch away from distraught.

He drove in his flashy car to go to his luxurious mansion and deep into his intimate cave to feel nothing again and hideaway. The materialism of it all washing over him, the security and safety of a promised tomorrow… it wasn’t working!

He slammed his hands down on the bat computer, sending keys flying, infuriated at himself that he had tried to do this cycle again and hope for a different ending. He then flung his suit over sending it crumbling into pieces.

He had become hopeless…


	5. One Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for the wait, I changed up the ending and this was a BEAST to write! I'm so glad to have finally completed it and thank you to those who bookmarked! I didn't mean to leave it on a downer for so long, please forgive me and enjoy the ride kiddos! :D <3

Bruce stormed out into the turbulent night, soaring over rooftops and swinging from gargoyles. He was crying, and he was in disbelief over what his life has come to. He was currently mourning a man who he loved. The idea of never seeing him again was soul-crushing but Bruce couldn't bear to face him now that he knew the truth. Accepting the man was insane was accepting a death sentence. When he had slowly come to terms with it, after making a horrible mess in the bat cave that Alfred was left to deal with, the tears had come rushing out. He’s never allowed himself to feel this overwhelming emotion before and there doesn't seem to be an end to it as it had been nearly over a week now and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. The memories of it all still made him distraught, hopeless like the world was crumbling around him. It was thunder and lightning, and luckily the rain hid any evidence of his vulnerability as he prowled the night.

The voices pushed him on, told him to keep going, to get back out there and tear through crime. It was best to try and find some normalcy again.

He found a group of lunatics, throwing Molotov cocktails and vandalizing an old dingey factory. They seemed to be pyromaniacs, enjoying the chaos of the flames and fire and the destruction it was causing. The fire was large and overwhelming, the building wasn't going to survive the onslaught and the amber light from the flames shone against his suit, lighting him up as he towered over them from a gargoyle. The pouring rain and thunder had no strength against the inferno.

As he swooped down and arose in the center of the crowd, he suddenly found that he couldn’t hurt them. He swung past one of the men’s heads and missed purposely, abruptly backing out of the idea of knocking one of his teeth out which resulted in the anarchist giving him a good hard shove, pushing him away.

"He's missing his hits!" a younger man in a drenched hoodie shouted through the monsoon behind him.

This announcement gave the criminals confidence, their initial instinct of flight was replaced with the response to fight. Their fists were then colliding with his face and he defended himself with his forearms. He knew their knuckles making contact with his armor was going to damage them more than him.

It seems he couldn’t find the usual emotion to get angry at the barrage. Instead, he was furious at himself. He was such a hypocrite! Punishing maniacs for following voices in their head and inbuilt desires that they couldn’t control, when he was only doing the same! He found he couldn’t make them suffer anymore; He had lost the care to.

He shared the voice of hatred, of anger at the world for all its unfairness and suffering. He could see it in their eyes, as he saw it in his own. It's what the flames represented, the loss of hope to go on.

Bruce ducked under their fists and then swept his foot across the soaking pavement, knocking them all down unexpectedly. He gathered himself to his feet, staggering slightly, lost in a daze. His cape dripping wet and dragging against the floor.

Bruce for a moment looked down at his reflection in the puddle beneath his boots. A pointy-eared creature of the night stared back at him, its eyes glowing, it had unbreakable skin with spikes down its arms and a gloomy nightmarish aura. Batman was a hellish monster, seeking blood for a trauma he keeps wanting to re-live. He refused to deny it any longer.

As he was glancing at himself the men all dived at him at once, many arms wrappings around him and they all toppled to the ground together. He found his arms were trapped by hands holding him there, and burdensome bodies were kneeling on his legs. Then something sharp was wedged in-between the armor of his suit. Bruce choked out a cry at the intrusion of it.

“Hey, who is this guy?!” They tried to pry the mask off him and failed miserably. The mask was locked on tight and electrocuted anyone who tried to remove it, thank god. The man who was rattling his head around fell unconscious from the voltage. It scared the rest of them off.

Bruce stood up, swaying on his feet. He was bruised and battered as he made his way back to the car on foot, a hand comforting his wound. His arms had lost the strength they needed, to swing from skyscrapers. There was no fight left in him anymore.

When arriving back to his lair, he practically fell out of the Batmobile, unable to stand.

“Alfred!” He called.

“Master Bruce? For goodness sake, I swear you’re trying to give me a heart attack!” The man cried as he came running down the spiral staircase. He had one hand sliding down the banister, and in a flash, he was by his side to help him.

The man could have held a better fight against those thugs at this rate. Alfred wrapped one of his arms around him, and the older man of steel helped him up, maneuvering him over to the surgery table.

Bruce clambered onto the metal surface and pried off the mask, the only way was with his fingerprints. He chucked it to the floor carelessly, making Alfred jolt at the bang from its landing as he was not expecting it. Bruce then unstrapped the buckles and pried himself out of the top half of his armor. He wore a bodysuit underneath and tugged his arms out of that too, it fell around his waist. Bruce looked down at his own body, littered in bruising, sweat, scars, and a horrible open wound that was the cause of his discomfort.

Alfred ran a finger over the aging injury that had caused Bruce hassle at the gala, “Christ, the last one’s barley even healed up”

“I let them… I… It’s not the suits fault”

“what?”

Bruce just shook his head, not wanting to elaborate, and groaned out in pain causing Alfred to quickly change his attention to more important matters. As Alfred healed him up, he felt embarrassed and humiliated. He had gotten so used to the sting of the needle sewing his skin back together, that he barely even registered it at all.

Once Alfred had stitched him up, Bruce wrapped a bandage around himself and slid off the table, his boots hitting the floor. Preventing the butler from cleaning up the other scrapes on him. He bent down to pick up the armor off the ground and trudged off.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Clambering up the stairs in a fit of simmering anger with himself and his weaknesses, he just grunted back in reply and walked into the manor, getting dirt from his grimy boots across the carpet.

Bruce entered the rec room as on the back wall there was a wide mirror and he found himself strapping himself back into his armor and putting the helmet on. The eyes glowing, as the creature possessed him again and he studied himself and what the criminals must feel when they look at him. Fear? or one of their own kind?

He spotted Alfred had followed him, loyal as ever, and now stood in the doorway. He wore a weary face of worry and concern.

“Master Bruce, what’s wrong?” the man was obviously confused; he had every right to be.

“Go away Alfred!” he snarled through tears.

The older man scoffed, “You’ll have to try bloody harder than that”

“What do you see when you look at me?” Bruce breathed, as he was in the bat suit, he turned around and stood tall despite his upset, trying to intimate the other man, trying to scare him away. It would make his life easier if Alfred just fled from him already.

“I see a man scarred with tragedy, an outcast, a loner...”

Bruce swallowed and turned his face away in shame, “A monster”

The elder man chuckled, “a cute and cuddly one”

Alfred approached him and placed a hand on his cold shoulder and then fingers to his back, guiding him to sit down on one of the plush couches. He sat down, pulling Bruce down with him to sit next to him and their shoulders leaned into one another. Bruce noticed he was getting the man’s fine attire wet.

“I know you’ve suffered master Bruce, when you were a boy, you were worse than this. Getting into fights and running away… I wanted you to use your anger for good. To try and at least get a positive out of all this darkness. I didn’t want to lose you to it”

Bruce swallowed and closed his eyes. He had to confess.

“I hear voices, Alfred… Dark thoughts, I’m not stable, I-I’m… insane”

“From where?”

“The paintings…” Bruce whispered, the confession making him realize how crazy he really was. It petrified him. “I can’t remember not ever hearing them…”

“Is that supposed to scare me? It’s the result of the tragedy, of that cursed murderer embedding it in you, and now society can’t understand you” the man informed, making sure Bruce was meeting his gaze.

“Bruce… there’s a good man in you, underneath all that and I love him, your mother and father did too. I’ll never leave you whether you tell me to go or not. I’m staying right here, by your side”

“But… why?”

The man scoffed, “Because I just said I love you, you silly sod”

Bruce couldn’t help but smile through the tension of it all, “…Thanks Alfred”

“Next time you start hearing things, tell me and we’ll play some of my old rock records” the man chuckled, patting his knee.

He then pulled Bruce in by the neck to place a kiss on his cheek in good humor, or likely to show how unafraid he really was. Bruce did start to feel ridiculous for worrying about how the other man thought of him. He also bathed in the comfort from the affection, he seemed to be constantly feeling touched starved lately.

The butler stood up, straightening out his rumpled waistcoat, and then turned round to face Bruce directly.

“Now tomorrow, I’m going to go visit Mr. doe as you haven’t. He needs help and someone there for him in such a trying time. I can’t imagine how it feels for your whole world to be tipped upside down and to wake up living in a nightmare”

“How are you not just giving up on people Alfred?” Bruce looked up to him, bewildered at the man’s perseverance.

“Because we have to keep trying and hoping... because once you give up, it’s all over”

  
John groaned at being woken up in the morning. He didn’t enjoy opening his eyes to the light anymore and facing the day, he dreaded it. He sat up, held his hands out for the security to cuff them. Then he was hauled to his feet reluctantly and trudged down to the doctor’s room for memories to be brought out of him that made him want to end it all.

He staggered down the hall, the square lights of the ceiling blinding him. He’d likely be walking into walls in his dazed state if the security didn’t keep a firm grip under his arms. John ended up giving up walking, and just let his feet be dragged across the floor. It was probably the highlight of fun for the rest of this horrible day he knew was coming.

In the windows, he could see his reflection of his green hair and white skin, and he shut his eyes to it, hanging his head in shame.

He was dragged into the doctor’s room. A guard pulled a plastic chair from under the small table in the middle of the room for him to sit down on. There was another chair opposing it for the doctor, who would be coming in to join him soon. The thought of it made him tremble. Shaking his head, he pleaded with them.

“No! No, I don’t want to! No more!” but his cries were falling on deaf ears.

He was forced down into the seat, a guard held two heavy hands on both of his shoulders keeping him in place. The other larger man tugged Johns linked hands from out between his legs and placed them on top of the steel table. He then attached his cuffs to the center of the surface, metal clanging against metal. His hands were stuck there, firmly in place. He was subdued.

“Gah no!” John threw what most would describe as a tantrum. With no cuffs around his feet, he kicked the chair out from underneath him and fell on his knees, his arms stretched out before him, and the cuffs straining on the pale skin around his wrists from his weight.

He tried to tug his hands off the table. Then he tried to move the table itself, but the damn thing was bolted to the cold ground beneath his feet.

“Let me go!” but the guards had shut the door on their way out. He was just talking to the walls, his cries reverberating back into his own eardrums, him being the only listener. He was left to his own thoughts until the dreaded appointment happened.

On the day Bruce left, John couldn’t remember a thing and it was great until the doctors started plucking the memories out of him. None of them were nice; they were all horrible, depressing, and soul-crushing. With Jeanie gone he had nothing; he was left with sour memories of everything before Bruce. The horrible images and dark thoughts consuming him. It was insufferable! Reminding him of abominable times he kept back years ago of being an outcast and feeling ever so alone…

“I can’t take it anymore!” He wept, beating his head against the table, wanting to make himself unconscious. The cold metal was being indented by his skull.

Ever since his diagnosis he could feel a monster, lurking in him, that was craving to come out. John wanted to give in to it and just let it consume him! He’d let it because he can’t deal with this anymore!

“Mr. Doe?!” The nurse flung the door open, running towards him to hold his bruised head back in the air to stop him from damaging himself any further, “Please stop hurting yourself, you’ll give yourself a concussion!”

John shook his head out of her grip, twisting away from her. His fingers were going numb and blue from the cuffs cutting off his blood flow.

“I don’t want to live anymore, it’s unbearable!”

The nurse was horrified at his words, taking a step back.

“Just kill me now! Ahahaha! It’s torture to live! Ahahaha!”

John's laughs were uncontrollable; he noticed it was a new habit ever since being dragged out of that poisonous chemical waste. Sometimes they stopped him from breathing, with the unstoppable frenzy going on for minutes. Ironically it usually happened when he was incredibly sad.

The guards came in again, this time pinning his head to the table, as they injected him with something he didn’t understand.

“It’s okay, we’ve got him”

Then after minutes, John remained awake.

“What the-“

“Ahoo-ahaha-ahahaHAHA!”

“Jesus, what the hell, is this guy made out of?” The guard breathed, looking to his partner who was just as concerned as him.

He laughed and cried at the same time as the guards held him down for even more minutes till eventually, he fell unconscious, drooling on the icy metal surface against his face as he regained his breath.

  
Bruce made his way up to the trophy room, to ponder and talk to his parents as he usually did on an evening. Once he entered the darkroom he frowned. If the voice in his head was just him, then what was the point of talking to them, if it was just himself responding? He turned on the light switch, with the windows being covered by red heavy curtains.

He got out a small step ladder from the loft and brought it into the room so he could stand on it and lift the painting off the wall. It was enormous and cumbersome, so Bruce just ended up batting the thing off the wall and it went falling face-first on the dark varnished wooden floor in a loud thump, dispersing dust across the floor.

He climbed back down the ladder and walked over to it. Grabbing the golden painted frame and hauling the artwork up to rest against the wall, facing him. He looked down on it now.

Bruce starred at his own young face in the painting. Had it been him? He was just talking to his younger self this whole time. He stared at the smiling boy with his parents stood behind him, his father’s hand on his shoulder and his mother stood right behind him. That boy probably couldn’t face the nightmare he was living now.

Bruce rubbed his stubbly chin, pondering on what to do. Dark thoughts came into his mind and he gave in to them. Maybe he’ll show the boy what a tough time is. He pried the painting from its frame, he ended up using a letter opener to bend the metal holders as he had stumpy fingernails from fighting. He then rolled the painting up into a scroll and made his way down the stairs, jogging down, feeling somewhat excited.

In the recreational room, he lit the fireplace. Getting a couple of logs in there to get the flames real grand. For a couple of moments, he watched the flames flicker before his eyes in some sort of magnificent dance. He then scrunched the painting between his grip, then between both hands. It was large so he ended up dropping it to the floor and stepping on it to really compact it together in a ball, he could hear the tearing of the paper.

Then he knelt and gathered it between his mighty fingers, as he looked into the flames and threw it in. He watched the ball, light up, the fire engulfing it and growing to a greater size. The heat of it made Bruce’s face sweat, he was leaning in so close and he laughed. The worry of what would happen all these years if he destroyed it was pointless. Nothing happened. Had it really been this simple? To stop the voices.

With Alfred gone to see John, he started to clean up the manor. There really was nothing to do on days off like this. He didn’t feel like working and had phoned in ill for a week and it was still too light outside to go out as the crusader.

After clearing up his mess in the trophy room, he ventured around the manor and ended up in the games room. He went past the bar and approached the pool table where he had played with John. He remembered the man leaning over the table and how handsome he had looked. How he had made him laugh.

Bruce gathered the pool cue off the table that still had its split end. He smirked at himself at how the man had gotten such a rise out of him. God, he missed him.

Then he wondered outside in the garden, he spotted the fountain and approached it hesitantly. He then stepped up on the ledge and found it wasn’t as fun with no audience to impress. He remembered how John had scolded him for being cocky, he wasn’t wrong. If Bruce had never taken the chance with that man, to attempt to try friendship, he never would have had any of these magnificent memories... but nor would he have the bad.

By the end of the evening, he ended up at his parent’s grave. He knew the path off by heart, that linked the manor to the graveyard. It was about a forty-minute walk.

The sky was grey, and crows cawed as they soared above him in the sky. The dark clouds added to the gloomy atmosphere of the whole thing. Beneath his polished shoes, where his parent’s bodies. The thought still disturbs him as he remains above them alive and breathing. They were buried together, and he could have nearly joined them.

It seemed the voice was still there, as it trickled back into his ears. Whispering nonsense, about how he didn’t save them, as if there was a way he could have.

Bruce thought about destroying their tombstones. He looked around the place, scavenging the area and weaving around other graves, of lives lost to the cruelty and suffering of the world. The grass was terribly overgrown.

He found a shovel, would this do?

Walking back over to the grave, he used the tool to dig the tombstones out from the ground. After a couple of minutes, the thing toppled over, with grass and clunks of mud clinging around its edges. Bruce bent at the knees and grabbed it. He then hauled it up with him as he stood to his feet, it weighed a ton.

He needed to throw it off a tall height. He spun around to gaze upon the old weary church. It had beautiful decorative glass windows and the entrance was unlocked for any visitor to go inside. The church had been abandoned, but with it being on private property, surrounded by rich snobs it had barely any vandalism to it.

Bruce chugged the hefty memorial up the stone steps to the top of the bell tower. It was an exhausting climb, causing him to pause a few times to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin.

As he entered the campanile, he noticed how the bells were rusting, unkempt and unclean. The wind was also turbulent from this height, it blew furious at him as he pushed against it, standing on the edge of the tower. It felt nice as it cooled him off. The tips of his shoes hung over the long drop below.

Bruce squeezed tight onto the headstone, and then not bearing to wait any longer, let go. He watched it fall for a few seconds, rotating in the air before hitting smackdown against the pavement below a loud crack thundered out as it obliterated into pieces. Shards of stone flying everywhere and causing an absurd mess.

Bruce closed his eyes and relished in the silence again. There… no more.

  
John had been told he got a visitor and he groaned at the thought of anyone seeing him in this state. His hair was messy and wild, and he couldn’t look after himself as he was currently on 24/7 watch and wasn’t allowed out of cuffs anymore, in case he harmed himself or others.

However, as he was escorted to the meeting room, his heart started to race at seeing Bruce again. Maybe this is exactly what he needed, to see that adoring face. To see that white smile which is the happiest of his memories. John didn’t have many achievements in his life and so making that man laugh was his greatest one. He wondered if he could still do it again in the current state, he was in. He started to ponder on jokes to say as he was dragged through the hall.

The door was opened, and he saw an older man, Alfred? His eyes went wide in delight at seeing him again. Part of him had believed the man now hated him. He could only imagine his reaction when Bruce had told him all about his lunacy, he was probably horrified. But here he sits before him, calm and adorning a bright smile. John noticed there was no Bruce with him though.

“Alfred!” John chirped, pleased to see him.

“Mr. Doe they’re acting like you’re dangerous. Please, tell me that’s not the case”

John was placed in the chair opposing the elder man and his hands were chained to the table, the usual routine but this time he didn’t protest. He felt embarrassed as they locked him to it. He was starting to realize the irrationality of his actions and how stupid he would feel if the butler could see his tantrums on a morning.

“Uh… well”

He couldn’t lie with the guards in the room; they’d probably laugh if he said he was on his best behavior. Luckily, they soon left them alone, closing the door behind them.

“I know you have every reason to be angry at the world dear, but you shouldn’t be letting the world bring you down with it. You’re better than that.”

John leaned forward and nodded his head eagerly at hearing the words. It’s the first sentence he’s heard whilst in here that was somewhat lifting him out of all this, even if it was just a tad.

“Um, where’s Bruce?”

Alfred paused; rubbing his chin then with a hard swallow said “unfortunately, he couldn’t come”

“You’re saying that he didn’t want to see me?” John's heart broke, as his face grew distraught. He knew he had told the man to leave him behind, but after a day he had already regretted it. Part of him hoped that Bruce rebuked and came storming back demanding they let him go again. Believing that John didn’t deserve to be here.

“You know how he is. Always making a drama out of everything, he’s going through hard times himself-“

“Ahahaha! Oh- Oh I’d love to know how they top this!” John scoffed sadistically, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling to calm himself down. He was trying to keep back the tears.

Alfred frowned, “He’s struggling, I know he’s being no help at all as usual. But I’ll bring him around”

“…he’s given up on me” John whispered.

“No of course not-“

“Don’t lie to me!” John snarled, and then groaned. He let his already bruised head fall to the table with a slam, jolting Alfred’s hand out from under his chin. He was defeated, he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He shouldn’t have told the man to leave him. This was his entire fault.

Alfred scoffed, “John, don’t be ridiculous, he’ll come around eventually”

“I… I haven’t got eventually; I need him right now!” John whined into the table, practically begging. His skin grew cold against the metal. “I’m running out of time!”

“For what?”

John just rolled his head from side to side, unable to answer.

Alfred’s brows furrowed with a pitiful look of sorrow. He empathized; John could tell. But that didn’t mean the butler could do anything to ease his woes. Before the man could place a hand on him, John pulled away with wet eyes, sitting back up abruptly. He could feel something rising in him, something ugly.

“You should save yourself the trouble from visiting me… I-I’m only going to get worse…”

“Don’t be daft, you need others in this tenacious period of your life, it won’t help you in your recovery”

John chuckled upset, “I’m d-done! Finished! Ka-boomed! Don’t you get it? Bruce is right. I was doomed ever since I got the diagnosis… ever since I was born!” He couldn’t even look at the other man anymore.

Alfred was horrified.

“I’m sorry my love, but trying to save me is a fool’s errand… let’s be honest”

Alfred adorned a fierce look, “I’m not giving up on you”

John trembled, squeezing his eyes shut, “I’ve fallen and- and there’s nothing to c-cling on to anymore! Somethings starting to take over me… s-something hideous…”

“Whatever it is, don’t let it” Alfred growled out, a strong authority to his voice, likely from years of disciplining Bruce.

John hung his head crying, not being able to bear to look at the man before him anymore. “I… I think It’s already too late for that. I’m s-sorry, I hope you c-can forgive me…”

Alfred came in to join him in the rec room after returning from the asylum. Bruce had lit the fireplace and was stood staring into it, hands in his pant pockets casually. He had a long day at work and came home to down a bottle of whisky. It seems alcohol was becoming a new hobby in his life. Now he watched the flames in drunken bliss.

He turned to Alfred, “How’d it go?”

“Awful, that poor man is suffering in there”

Bruce swallowed, “if the facility needs changes-“

“In his own mind, you need to see him!”

“Yeah well, if he wants to bathe in it so be it…”

Alfred scoffed, “How cutting master Bruce, is that how you justify yourself?”

Bruce looked at his butler with wide eyes, he didn’t have anything to come back that, other than honesty. “He’s a lost cause…”

Alfred shook his head; the man couldn’t relate to it at all. “How hypocritical of you, you, a man who just admitted to suffering the same as he…”

“I’m good; you just told me he’s trouble”

“As if you weren’t ever trouble master Bruce! You’d be in bloody prison without me, if we're being so honest with each other” Alfred scorned.

Bruce was shocked listening to the words.

He left Bruce alone. If he had any walls left that man just obliterated them, there was no way he could put any new ones up soon. He hated seeing the butler sad, that man deserved happiness with all he puts up with.

Was that true? Would he have just been the same as John without Alfred? Locked up somewhere in black gate angry at the world with Batman scowling down on him.

Bruce was terrified of meeting John because part of him knew he wasn’t going to be meeting the same man as he’s always known. To see him in such a state, would that be really worth it? To look upon him, ruin his memory of him, just so he can confirm how he’s never going to come back from it? The damn man himself even said curing lunatics is a waste of time. He had started to believe him, as even he can’t seem to cure his own lunacy.

Maybe he was terrified of seeing his own reflection stare back at him. Bruce was one himself, he admits that. He felt like he was stuck in this weird limbo. Can a crazy help another crazy? He doubted it.

  
Throughout the months Alfred would still visit John every so often and coming back with darker and darker news.

“Alfred stop seeing him! I don’t want to hear any more of it!” He snapped at him one night. He started having nightmares of John in there.

Bruce also found that voices still hadn’t gone away, and he couldn’t escape them. He hadn’t been Batman for months, with him not wanting to fight criminals anymore because for some reason he kept losing his fights. That made the voices very angry with him, guilting him every night on how many lives he hasn’t saved. But what could he do? He’d be practically killing himself going back out there again in this state.

He was terrified of the streets now; they represented something he didn’t want to face. He seemed more consumed with dealing with himself and debating whether or not he needed to turn himself in.

The voices kept him up all night as he rolled around in bed, unable to get any sleep.

It was mid-day and Bruce had found himself trudging back to the graveyard, seeing the shattered tombstone from his parent’s grave that someone had swept up. He had gotten a letter through the door from the council apologizing for what happened to the memorial and they’re confused on how a vandaliser could have gotten in. He was close to replying saying, he did it, just to see their reaction.

Bruce wanted the voices to end so badly. He hated them, and he found himself back on top of the church bell tower. His feet dangling over the edge as the wind made him sway. He wondered if the only option left was to throw himself off it and join his parents in the afterlife. Then the guilt of being alive would go away. Then the voices would stop.

No… he backed off the edge.

He had Alfred; he could never do it to him. In fact, he hadn’t heard from the man today as he had left to visit the asylum early in the morning. He didn’t know why he still bothered, it had been months and the lunatic had practically spiraled down into becoming a monster, to no surprise. At least the butler had stopped telling Bruce the details about his visits.

Bruce was going to call him up right now and tell him how much he loved him. He was too ungrateful of that man.

He plucked his cell phone out of his coat pocket, he noticed he had missing texts and calls from work which he groaned at. As he dialed Alfred, he waited minutes for the phone to answer but eventually, no one did.

One more time.

Bruce waited on the phone, looking out at the view before him of fields and mansions in the distance. Then someone picked up, it was just weird static noises at first.

“Hello?”

“Heelllloooo”

“Who is this?”

“Whooo iss thisss?” the gruff man mocked his tone, he sounded phyco. How had he gotten Alfred’s phone? Then he heard shouting in the background and a woman crying for help. It can’t be possible, but his mind was putting two and two together.

“Stay on the phone!” he demanded but obviously with his luck, after a few seconds the stranger hung up, perhaps scared.

Bruce dashed out of the graveyard and began to run all the way back up to the manor. He debated with himself on whether to put on the bat suit. He was already wasting so much time getting to the mansion on foot and the idea of Alfred being hurt was petrifying him. Deciding he had no more time to waste, he took an alternate route and found the main road to which he waved a cab. He was hoping this was all just in his head. He pleaded with the driver to be taken to a place he swore he’d never return to, as fast as possible.

Bruce arrived at the scene, the taxi coming to an abrupt halt. The black spiked gates were open, and he already noticed an inmate in ripped white attire, black stains littered on him, dashing out of them.

“HEY!” Bruce shouted out the window, he opened the door and tried to grab him, but it was too late, the man had gotten free down the road. He turned his gaze back to the asylum; the entrance doors were open, and smoke was coming out the top of the building. There seemed to be a fire inside. An alarm was ringing loud across the whole area; Bruce could detect other noises underneath it from people inside, who likely all need help.

He turned to the driver in the cab, the man had opened his door and was sticking a leg out shocked at the scene he was looking upon.

Bruce shook his shoulder, “Call the police”

Then as he turned to make his way inside, the driver placed a hand on his own shoulder stopping him, he had a horrified look on his face, “Don’t go in there, Mr. Wayne!”

Bruce brushed his hand off.

“Do it now!”

At the main doors, there was a security guard, bleeding out holding his stomach. He was keeping the door propped open as he rested against it. Fumes were blowing out above him, from within.

Bruce bent down, removing his coat, and pushed the man to lie down to the floor, to stop the shock. The coat was placed underneath his head. He noticed the sharp object, like a shard of glass, was still in his stomach.

“Don’t remove it” he ordered the man, as he made sure he was applying pressure around the wound. “Help's coming”

The man could only nod meekly, he seemed barely conscious.

He pushed through into the lobby the place was a tip, and he could hear yells from down one of the halls. The reception glass window had been completely smashed, likely robbed of all its valuables. Shattered glass littered the floor and it cracked under his shoes. The white walls were charred black.

“Alfred?!” He shouted as he ventured down the halls. It was hard to breathe with all the smoke.

An inmate suddenly collided with him at an intersection. Bruce grabbed him but the man twisted out from his grip.

“Get out of here!” The man cried in his face as he then paced down the way Bruce came. He noticed the man had a splatter of blood on his back. His eyes went wide, this isn’t good, there had been a fight.

He kept going, practically running now. He was by the cell blocks; all the doors were open. As he passed them, he kept up his guard, glancing into the dark gloomy rooms. The lights were all off, likely due to a short circuit or power cut.

As Bruce looked to his right a man jumped out to his left, arms wrapping around his neck and they tussled into one of the cell blocks. The hands he was wrestling with felt familiar, old hands with worn scars. He spun his head around to find it was Alfred, he had a bloody nose.

The man was hushing him to stay quiet, as he back-peddled them further inside to hide in the corner of the cell.

“Alfred!” Bruce gasped, happy to see him safe and alive. He pulled the man in for a hug, wrapping his arms around him and snuggling his chin into the crook of the man's neck. He bathed in his warmth.

Alfred pried them apart, “Forgive me, Master Bruce, I kept up my defense, but I can’t risk taking on any more onslaughts…”

“You need to get out of here, I’ll escort you out” Bruce reassured, placing a grip on the man’s arm. He’ll keep the other safe on their journey back; no more harm will come to him.

Alfred shook his head, “you need to go take care of whatever’s through there…”

“Through where?” Bruce whispered.

“The communal block, I think that’s where the attack happened, how they broke free… there are people wounded Bruce“

Bruce nodded; he was still coming down from the relief of seeing the butler alive and well.

“We need to get moving”

“Alright” the man nodded, he wiped the blood from under his nose.

Bruce did a double glance out the room, before maneuvering them back out into the hall. Alfred followed closely by.

Bruce kept glancing back to check on him. He'd have both hands on the man if he didn't need them ready in case of another attack. He opened all the doors first and tried to find his way out of this maddening hell hole. It was difficult with some exits being blocked by fire, the upper floor was caving in, and the ceiling was coming apart causing them to have to step over fallen pieces.

They soon encountered another inmate. The loony carelessly shoved past him, pushing him into a wall and getting mad Bruce ended up grabbing the retreating inmate by the arm, yanking him back to meet his fist. Bruce hoped he choked on a few of his teeth as the man fell to his knees clutching his face, blood escaping between his fingers.

“Bruce be careful!’ Alfred hushed behind him, holding on to his sleeve, “We don’t want to start any unnecessary fights”

“They should watch where they’re going!”

“Your anger won’t prove useful right now; you need to think smartly about all this” the elder man warned.

They heard screaming down the halls, it was a woman. She was clearly in danger. Bruce immediately grabbed Alfred and directed them the opposite way.

“We need to get out of here!” his heart was racing, whatever it was he was unsure if he could protect Alfred from it, and he needed that man alive or he’d be finished.

Alfred shook out of his grip and batted his hands off.

“No Bruce, those people need help! What on earth has come over you?!” The elder man exclaimed, he turned back round to go to the nurse’s aid. That man had a higher moral code than him sometimes.

“Alfred stop!” He reached for him but the man was moving quickly. Alfred headed towards the communal room, the very room he had warned him about! Bruce was terrified.

Out from the walls, John lunged at Alfred, strangling him with his arms around his neck as they crashed through the double doors into the room. He had been hiding this whole time!

“Ahahaha-AHAHA!”

“ALFRED!” Bruce was horrified, he dashed after them.

Alfred wrestled with John, but he had no advantage against him, with the lunatic having caught him by surprise and from behind. John socked him round the face knocking him out.

“Bullseye!”

Bruce's eyes went wide at seeing Alfred’s head injury; blood trickled down his forehead as he fell to the ground. He was taken so off guard by it, that he didn’t see John's fist coming to his face before he felt it. He clutched at his nose falling to one knee.

“Hello, Brucie! My cantankerous man!” he was booted in the face, sending him on his back.

The man was wild and crazy; he’s never seen that look on him before. It had been so long and to see the man again, he realised how hopelessly in love he was still with him. It hurt to see him this way in person. He thought he was going to have a heart attack from heartbreak. This is exactly why he had been avoiding him…

He scanned the room through squinting eyes; he spotted staff members hiding beneath tables. Water pipes had been broken, causing the floors to be soaking wet. A bookcase was on fire, making it hard to breathe and all the windows had been smashed with chairs. Steel bars blocked them from being an escape route.

“John stop this!” He pleaded through gritted teeth, anger rising in him as he pushed himself off the ground. He was already growing overwhelmed.

“Ahaha! No! No this… this is too fun!” John jumped up on a table and bounced on it, his eyes were darting around the room and it seemed he couldn’t stay still. High adrenaline rush maybe, as well as being completely insane. “Do you know how hard it’s been, being locked up in here for months?!”

“The asylums the best place for you-“

“No- Inside this head!”

“What?!”

“I-I'm The Joker now!” the man grinned crazily.

Bruce was confused, his heart-stopping dead. Had something possessed the man? Joker? What’s going on?!

“Listen … dear… I’m going, to choke the life out of you… and then I’m going to terrorize the city! Then I'll slit my own throat as this place goes up... in a BANG!” he waved his hands in the air laughing, “Does that sound good enough? I did promise you I’d be at least entertaining”

Bruce was horrified, he didn’t believe John would. But he needed to protect Alfred from such a fate.

“If that’s true, then you really are mad!” Bruce growled.

“Your manners haven’t improved! Aho-ahah-AHAHA!”

“You need help John!” Bruce said swaying on his feet. He could feel his blood rising, he knew this was going to get gritty.

“I’m not J-John!”

“Well, whatever you are now, it’s off-putting! This is exactly why you belong here!”

“Aahahaha! You- you have a lot of nerve saying, you backstabbing traitor! Good thing I gave up on you! In fact… I-I’ve given up on everything! I’ve joined your way of thinking, perhaps even surpassed it!” John giggled.

“My way of thinking?”

“Oh yes! Don’t play innocent with me, dear; I’m talking about throwing in the towel! Losing hope! We both know I’m a lost cause... a m-monster!” he snarled.

Bruce was speechless.

“My problem is you’re trusting I disappear; you want to lock me up and throw away the key whilst you get to have all the fun! B-but I won’t be ignored any longer! You can’t erase me!”

The man jumped off the table, landing on his feet. He had a wild smirk on his face and then from out of nowhere, blades slid out from between his fingers.

“It’s time for my turn on the stage! I’m much better at it!!”

John laughed maniacally as he lunged at him and damn that lunatic has an unexpected flair to him. He was hit right around the face, the blade nearly taking his eye out. He shouldn’t have given him those lessons. Enduring the hit, he grabbed the man’s forearm and flipped him over, but he went toppling down with him.

They both scrambled to their feet. The clown was clever with a blade, swinging them at Bruce, nicking him on the arms that were blocking his face. Bruce bared the brunt of it, as he then struck the tyrant between the legs making him stagger, and then pounded his temple.

It was a clean hit, and he expected the man to topple over, unconscious. But the other simply regained his balance again and with a click of his neck he brushed it off.

Bruce’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

The loony lunged at him; dropping the knives he pulled out a wire, a cable, or something and wrapped it around his neck. The jester was then behind him and pulled back, choking him, putting all his weight into it.

“John?!” He wheezed, shocked at the man’s violence. He was attempting to kill him!

Bruce slammed his head back, connecting their skulls. Both of them toppling back on the ground tripping over. It seemed John- or Joker now, was slipping on the wet flooring too. They both separated, trying to regain their balance, lost in frenzy.

A staff member got up to try help from under the table.

"Get down!" Bruce ordered them, making them retreat. He didn't want to risk anyone else get harmed.

John laughed wildly as he stood tall, “You big brute, maybe I’ll tie you up and have some real fun with you!” he smirked, flipping a new hidden blade in the air and catching it. “Make it real messy!”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Bruce gritted through his teeth, terror in his eyes

“Pretty much everything!” the man chuckled.

Bruce took a hard swallow and fought him again, he had to subdue him!

“You really shouldn’t bring fists to a knife fight, my love! Ahaha-“ but the man’s laughing was cut dead by a fierce punch from Bruce right in the nose.

This wasn’t John. “I’d never love something like you!”

“Argh! Low blow!”

Bruce had stunned the man with words and he dived on him and the man’s head cracked against one of the tables as he toppled him to the floor. This time Bruce’s hands were around his throat and he throttled him.

“John! Fight it, Wake up!” He knew the man he knew was under there, “I know you’re in there!”

“John’s gone argh- ahahaHAHA!” The man kicked him off, “You’re far too late for that!!”

“You’re wrong!” Bruce retorted, gathering himself to stand on his feet once more.

“Am I? Well… one of us is going to die tonight, so you better start getting crazy if you want to live!” John wiped the blood from his lips with a finger as he stood with a smile.

“I’m not going to kill you-“

“Then you’re a bigger meat for brains than I thought! You’re not dealing with just anyone, I’m insane! Don’t you understand it’s all pointless-”

“Do I understand? I’m shackled to a memory! I nearly just ended it all!” Bruce snarled, barring his teeth in overwhelming frustration. “I even hear voices! I see Delusions, just like you! My life’s nothing but heartache! It’s unbearable, but it’s no excuse to behave how you do...”

John stared at him with wide eyes, his demeanor shifting to one of despair.

“Well… I guess that makes the both of us loonies… no surprise really. Takes one to know one after all… except you don’t get locked up for it!” He growled out the last line.

Alfred groaned, he seemed to be waking up again. He moved to sit himself up, with his eyes still closed he couldn’t see the threat of the situation.

“Alfred STAY DOWN!”

It attracted John’s attention and the man was on him, grabbing Alfred by the hair and placing the blade to his neck. Bruce halted his movements towards him in fear of the blade going any deeper.

“What does Alfred mean to you mhm? If you’re insane, you’re just a monster too. I bet deep down you want to finish him yourself!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“You’re acting as though you care!” John snarled, bitterly.

“Of course, I care!” Bruce cried out, “just because I'm i-insane, that doesn’t mean I can’t love him…”

“Oh, this is good…” John smirked, pulling the blade away from Alfred and jabbing it at Bruce “now you’re talking; you might be even starting to make one bit of sense!”

Bruce took a hard swallow, confused at John's statement.

“Now, no more lies... Were you done with me?!” the man stood to his feet again, letting Alfred fall to the side.

“No, I wasn't…”

“GAH Stop playing me for a fool!”

The man swung at him but now Bruce deflected all his hits and countered him. John lunged at him again and Bruce grabbed his arm and then rolled him over so he fell on the floor, his arm twisting as it remained trapped in his grip. Then Bruce placed a foot on his back and spiraled his arm around, breaking it from the socket.

“ARRGH!” John howled in pain, as Bruce let go, he clutched to his shoulder. That definitely hurt.

Bruce had been stabbed and he withdrew the blade from his chest, feeling the weight of it. His white shirt staining red. He was exhausted. Sweat running down from his face, and he felt like he was going pass out.

“GAHH!” John was on the floor in agony, he wasn’t able to move. He was completely open.

“It’s depressing, isn’t it…? The vile world we live in… how dire it is, to be expected to wretch through all that waste and filth on your own… I bet someone like you has never fitted in anywhere”

“Nggrh!” His quirky man snarled upset, shaking his head to the floor as if he couldn't bear to listen to the words. He seemed to be in a state of terror.

“I know that pain... I’ve felt it for as long as I can remember… but unlike you I had others, people who understood me, who loved me for all my flaws anyway… you were even one of them” Bruce scoffed with a smile, he must look crazy right now.

Bruce stepped over him and stood in front of him now. John peered up at him and then scrunched his wet eyes away from him.

“If I didn’t have those people in my life… I’d be just like you… ”

“I’m a m-monster Bruce, you should just finish me off right here....”

“No…. no… you’re not”

John looked up at him.

“The truth is… anyone would become like you in your circumstances…you’re a good person and I'm sorry for giving up on you”

John scoffed through tears, “I’m not well Bruce… I-I’m sick…”

“I know…”

“I’m sorry for hurting Alfred…” he wept into the ground.

“Don’t be, you can’t help it…”

The man choked on his own sobs at hearing that. “You know… I think this is all I’ve ever needed to hear… thanks Bruce”

Bruce nodded, swaying on his feet, he felt dizzy and exhausted. Despite all the chaos and trauma of returning here, by facing his nightmares, he realized there was nothing to fear at all.

The double doors burst open.

“Sir put the knife down!” one of the SWAT members out of many yelled at him. They had thick armor, helmets and plastic shields, and guns pointing at all areas of the room.

Bruce held his hands in the air, the knife dropping to the floor.

“Get on your knees!”

Bruce did, but that resulted in him being shoved down to the floor anyway. His face hitting the cold hard flooring.

Many of the officers had dived on top of him, he was immobilized. His arms were twisted behind his back and he felt the sensation of steel cuffs being wrapped around his wrists. They were locked tight.

He was grabbed from under the armpits and hauled to his feet. He noticed Alfred was being tended to and John was unconscious. He hoped someone checked him out soon, he was in a dire state like himself.

The police managed to get everyone out. Bruce had been escorted straight to an ambulance when they spotted all his wounds. Potential monster or not he was treated with the same care as any other. He respected that about the law.

God, he hated hospitals and groaned at the thought of going there. He’d much rather he and Alfred stitched him up at the Batcave, although he did have rather serious wounds.

Alfred had managed to escape police questioning and joined him in the ambulance. He was by his side as always. Bruce started to go into shock from the blood loss. The man reached out, placing a warm hand over his.

“You’re not dying like this, not after everything”

Bruce scoffed, from the other end, he saw how silly it all was, Alfred worrying about him. He didn’t care if he passed, somethings are just meant to be.

“Want me to pass a message along to them?” Bruce joked, referring to his parents.

“Yes, that handing you to me should have come with a thousand bloody warning labels”

Bruce chuckled.

The man had a graze and bleeding head wound where he had been knocked unconscious. He was taking it like a champ. The man’s probably seen worse things than this in the war.

“Nice battle scar”

“Takes me back to my youth, I thought I’d have to start manning an aircraft”

“Yeah well, Johns feeling the worst of it”

“He was escorted out, I saw him. He’s being treated” Alfred reassured.

Bruce released a shaky breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in. He could only imagine the current state that man was in, he started to regret the punches.

Bruce then smirked looking up at Alfred, jiggling the cuffs he was still in, “I guess you couldn’t keep me out of trouble in the end”

Alfred scoffed, “I’m starting to think Master Bruce, that you enjoy sending me to an early grave”

After a moment's pause, he added, “you did well in there for not killing him…”

“Who do you take me for?” Bruce smiled; “I know what I’m doing…”

“What a load of rubbish”

Bruce chuckled then closed his eyes. If John passed tonight, he hoped he joined him. He didn’t care if it was in heaven or hell.

  
A week had passed. Bruce had gone to the hospital to be mended and stitched up. His wounds were still healing but it was nothing life-threatening. There had been no causalities that night. It seemed there had been a mutual uprising between the inmates, there was no one specifically to blame for it all.

After his stay in the hospice, Bruce had to then suffer and endure police interrogation. John may be insane, but Bruce wasn’t officially, so he had to justify his actions. Luckily, the commissioner deemed it valid and he was let go. Of course, he also had to deal with the press talking about the incident. He avoided all interviews about the matter and hope it just died over. He really couldn’t be bothered with any of it.

The asylum needed restoring and Bruce would come in to help with it in the evenings after work. Walking into Wayne tower with bandaged hands and cuts and plasters on your face got everyone staring and asking questions. It was so bad that he even started returning basic politeness and common courtesies just to get them to shut up and off his back when he asked them to.

Bruce was in the asylum bending at his knees as he picked up the rubble and dumped it in a sack that the staff and builders were using to clear up the mess. God the place was trashed, the fire did most of the damage but it’s nothing more money couldn’t fix, and Bruce had plenty of that.

He needed to get this place in order, so the hospital staff isn’t left dealing with the insane for too long. Some might be temporality moved to Black Gate if they get too overwhelmed. Plus, he needed to see how his quirky man was doing. John had survived and that’s all he knew. He wanted to see him again so badly. He was having positive dreams again of them on Ferris Wheels.

Some of the saner lunatics had already moved back into the asylum. They retired in the untouched cells that survived the fire. It seemed they enjoyed helping restore the place too instead of wasting away doing nothing at the hospital.

“Aw man, I really liked this book!” one said, a shorter man with a Brooklyn accent. He sat on the edge of a charred table as he flicked through tattered and burnt pages.

“I’ll get you a new one” Bruce chimed in from across the room.

The man smiled, “Really? Hey, it’s cool I get to see Bruce Wayne in person, could you sign it too?”

Bruce scoffed; how could a man see his signature as valuable. He’s shocked how people look up to him to this day. As far as this man knows he’s just some inherited rich boy. Either way, he agreed.

“Sure”

  
After the asylum’s essentials were restored, the inmates were one by one being sent in again over the course of the next month and by the end, it was finally John's turn. Bruce saw his name written on the form on the desk at the reception about those who were coming in and he was excited the day had finally come.

Bruce waited in the waiting area of the lobby. When the entrance door was knocked on, he came over to help them open it. There were two officers and in-between them was John he was groaning likely not very enthusiastic at being back here again. He also appeared to be on some kind of sedative.

Bruce wanted to take him off the officer’s hands, but he supposed he’s not classified as he was no trained professional and would be denied. Instead, he told them to follow him to an open cell. They got to it, and they dumped John on the bed, he was cuffed by his hands and feet, and with him also being sedated he was no threat.

The officers gave a nod and then left likely to fetch whoever else was coming today. With them gone, he peered out the door in the hall, to check if anyone was watching. Then he trapped himself in, shutting the door, and moved over to John’s side kneeling by the bed.

He shook his shoulder, hoping to get him to wake somewhat out of the drug in his system.

“John? It’s Bruce, I’m here” he couldn’t believe he was touching the man again, his hand moved from his shoulder to rest against his forehead to check he wasn’t feeling under the weather.

Unable to resist, he leaned forward and kissed the man’s unconscious lips. John remained asleep and Bruce brushed his lips against the other man's, trying to seduce him awake.

“…Bruce?” John whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, then opening them blearily. He must have stirred a memory as he looked on the edge of tears.

The man rolled his head away, “I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, I’m over that” Bruce reassured, stroking his hands through his hair, the green of it still shocking his eyes, it was interesting to play with. As it wasn’t dyed, the color had stayed just as pigmented as it had on his first day.

“How can you… forgive me?” John asked facing the wall, he was barely speaking loud enough to hear him. Like he was afraid of Bruce’s answers. His eyes had closed again, he couldn’t seem to bear to face him. Bruce noticed one was still black from where he had harmed him, he hated seeing it.

“Because I love you, John”

“I love you too!” Johns hitched out a breath, turning to face him with wide eyes. His breathing became erratic. He seemed to have incited a strong emotion from the man and Bruce held a hand against his expanding chest pushing down on it to calm the man’s breathing.

“Calm down, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere”

John nodded excitedly, the rest of his body remained still, and he tried to calm his breathing.

“Bruce?” A doctor had come into the room and he jolted at being caught so vulnerable. “I thought I’d find you in here, we should talk… about Mr. Doe”

Bruce nodded; he wasn’t sure what the meeting would be about. He leaned in close to John's ear, “I’ll be right back”

“Okay…” John whispered, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes.

He stood up and left the room with the doctor.

  
He entered the office, the doctor pointed to a seat for him to sit on. The walls were white, and everything was clean and in shape. You couldn’t tell there had been an attack here except now there were extra safety locks on the doors.

“So… where do I even begin” She started, turning to the computer and opening up John's history. She rubbed her chin in deep contemplation or perhaps feeling overwhelmed as she read his file.

“Maybe you should take a look?” she asked, nodding to the screen.

“I’ll pass…”

Bruce didn’t want to read it, whatever memories they got out of the man he didn’t care. That’s not what mattered right now, and it wasn’t going to help John get better. Right now, he needed hope, and that means he needed to form a future that was outside of all that.

“Just tell me everything he needs, anything at all, I’ll get it… I’m supporting him a thousand percent”

“Mhm, he’s resilient I’ll give him that. But his programs weren’t working before-“

“They will now, just give him a second chance. Please”

“Well, it’s not like there’s much of a choice. We had literally tried everything…”

“He’s getting out of here. I know so because I’m out of here, and if I can survive this world so can he. He just needed more encouragement”

She laughed, “I suppose you’re offering to be his cheerleader”

“Of course,”

Bruce would even wear a dress and shake pom-poms if he had to.

  
Bruce was with John pretty much all day every day and they were starting to form a usual routine of him helping him get through the necessary tasks of the day. Hanging out with John’s true self was a wild ride. The man was even giddier than normal and crazier. He couldn’t stop talking to things and sometimes walking into walls. The man also had a habit of imagining things that weren’t there.

“John…” he held out his hand after the man had gotten frightened of walking past an open door. It seemed he was imagining something was in there.

John held out his cuffed wrists, Bruce grabbing on to them, and then he walked the furthers away he could from the doorway, with Bruce as a barrier in-between it.

“There’s nothing in there, trust me. You know I’d never lie to you” Bruce tried to assure him.

“mhmm…” John nodded his head, but his eyes never left the room, even glancing back to check on it as they continued down the hall.

“Come on” Bruce put a hand on his head and made him face forward. “Eyes front”

They entered his room and Bruce sat next to him on the bed, “What are you seeing?”

John shook his head; it was the worst look he’s ever seen on somebody of distraught and terror.

“Well, whatever it is... I'll beat it up”

John smiled and then couldn't hold back from laughing. That seemed to help with whatever it was. He still had a black eye, and Bruce hated seeing it. But then he supposed he had a stab wound to match.

He had been holding a bottle of water and pulled out pills from his pocket.

“Do you want me to explain these to you? Why you need to take them” Bruce said looking into John’s cute puppy eyes.

The man shook his head, “I trust you know what’s good for me, I don’t care” he took the tablets from Bruce’s hand and placed the medication on his tongue, and Bruce passed him the drink, helping him lift it to his lips as he seemed hesitant.

“How fast can you drink it? You should try to best your record"

John laughed again. Bruce liked cheering him up.

He stroked a hand through those green locks, “I really like your new look by the way”.

“Really?! After you left, I started hating it!”

Bruce smiled leaning in close to rest his forehead against the other man's own. He couldn’t ever believe he thought this man was naturally evil. He was horrified and appalled with himself. How he had given up, it was unforgivable. The least he could do was be with him all the way.

John pulled away to stare into his eyes, “Bruce, don’t do that look… it makes me sad too... I thought we were going to stay strong…”

Bruce scoffed then smirked, “I’m just happy to have you…”

John smiled and placed Bruce’s hand back in his hair and let out a deep sigh of relief and snuggled into him. Bruce wrapped an arm over him as the man rested against him.

John had the worst nightmares he’s ever heard from anyone, the other inmates even complained to the staff about his howling at night. If Bruce got annoyed with getting little hours of sleep then John must be bursting at the seams in frustration. The man didn't manage to get any. He was constantly jumping out of dreams.

This meant he would fall asleep in the day and Bruce got to see the night terrors in person. He had told the doctor about it and she said soon the medication and therapy will make it go away.

Bruce sat with him on the bed after he had just woken out of a recent one. He had come to see him in the morning and didn't want to disturb him when he found him sleeping. He just drank his coffee as he listened to his murmuring.

"I was... f-falling in that... chemical shoot... I-I was wearing the gala suit and...everything burned..." he groaned shaking his head, rubbing at his skin.

Bruce couldn't even imagine how lucky John had been to survive that night. There were so many possibilities of death, from drowning, to being poisoned, to being shot. The probability of him being found after all of it had been slim. That day, was a bad one.

"It's okay you're out of there now, and you'll never go back there again. I won't let that happen" Bruce assured, it's all he could ever do. Anything John was frightened of, he promised to destroy.

Bruce patched up any of John's recovering injures. He'd check on them every day. Everything had pretty much healed with the incident of the Asylum breakout growing months behind them. However, John's arm was still recovering. Bruce still remembered doing that to him. It was a memory he wished he could burn out of his mind.

He had kissed his bruised eye in apology that has now faded away. He wouldn’t let John apologize to him for his injures. He had given up on caring about things like that a long time ago.

"You know I'll never harm you again..." Bruce promised, the guilt of it was overwhelming him.

“You’re insane too… so you couldn’t help it”

Bruce swallowed he forgot he had told John all about that, and the man had remembered. He knew he should probably talk about it.

“Do you still hear the voices?” John asked, they were in the communal room sat on a couch together, leaning into each other's shoulders. The man was taking bites out of a sandwich.

“Yes but not as regularly...” Bruce sipped on his coffee, glancing around the room and hoping no staff was close enough to hear them. The other inmates were calm and talking around the room.

John gleamed “Well that’s great news!”

Surprisingly, the other man felt closer to him because of it. Bruce thought it would push him away. But the man was interested to learn about his own troubles.

“Was it true too… that you nearly ended it all?”

Bruce swallowed, “I nearly did. But I never would...”

John let out a deep sigh of relief, “that’s good, without you, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself!”

Bruce understood what he meant, he felt the same with Alfred and now John too.

“It sort of gives me hope, seeing how well you’re handing it all. Gah, I really gave in to all of it before didn't I?” he frowned.

“We all slip up here and there. Plus you’re still new to it, it gets easier the more you hold out, it just sort of becomes something in the back of your mind”

“I hear voices constantly” John drawled.

Bruce frowned with him but then smirked. He tickled Johns’ sides,

‘ahaha-AHAHA!”

“That help?” he chuckled, eventually pulling his hands away.

John was still regaining his breath. Bruce then remembered what Alfred had said to him, “maybe listening to music might help”

“Oh yeah! I love dancing!” He jumped up on his feet, waving wild hands in the air. Bruce caught him by the back of his shirt and hauled him back down again.

“Well, you have to remain behaved if you want things like that in your room again, remember?”

“Oh right, yeah” John nodded, with a giggle.

One day they were out in the garden. John still had cuffs on but the ones around his feet had long been removed. Bruce was worried if having his hands tied made it hard to balance as he walked along the brick ledge. He kept a sharp eye on him. For some reason, John still couldn’t resist climbing up on things when outside.

“Tell me about the world, Bruce! What’s going on out there?” the man beamed, placing one foot in front of the other.

“You’re asking a man that dreads going outside…” Bruce scoffed, one hand in his pant pocket as he walked alongside him. The winter in Gotham had passed and they were now going into spring. The skies were blue and he was finding that he didn't need to wear a coat anymore.

“Yeah well, it’s better than nothing.” John laughed, “How’s Dina doing? I bet she misses me!”

Bruce chuckled, “your other co-workers miss you”

“What really?!” he wore a face of disbelief.

“Of course, I told them I’d pass on their greetings”

“aw, I definitely have to get out now!”

Bruce smirked, “good, I’m glad it’s motivation”

“I need to prove them all wrong, that- that I’m a good person!” John exclaimed as he jumped off the ledge and stood in front of Bruce, jolting him and making him stop dead in his tracks.

“you shouldn’t worry about proving yourself, it’s their loss” Bruce frowned.

John's eyes went wide, “What about my appearance though? I should dye my hair, and get a tan or something-“

“Hell no!” Bruce countered, somewhat surprised at himself at how passionate he was against it.

“uh… okay” John looked taken aback at Bruce's tone too.

“It’s you, I can’t describe it, just… it would be a shame for you to give it up” Bruce reassured, running fingers through the man's hair, sweeping it off his face.

“What about-“

“They have to think how they’d feel if they fell into a bloody chemical vat”

John shivered at the memory, “is that stuff sealed up now?”

“The whole place is shut down. I can’t believe it was running, to begin with,” The both of them had continued walking down the path.

“ahaha! That’s karma to them for firing me!”

Bruce scoffed, “That’s one way of looking at it”

“Piggyback?” John quirked an emerald brow at him.

“Sure”

“Are you serious?!!”

John climbed up on the stone ledge again and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck, placing the cuffs under his chin, and then Bruce grabbed onto the thighs that were clambering around his waist.

“ahahaha!” John laughed, leaning forward and peering his eyes over Bruce’s head and holding on tight.

“I reckon I could run a mile with how light you are”

“Onward!” John gleamed.

Months later, John was being removed from his cuffs permanently. He sat on the edge of his bed as Bruce stood by him with his hands in his pant pockets, wanting to celebrate the memory with him.

The security guard removed them; the cuffs left red indentations on John's skin from how long they’ve been on for. Only ever being removed when he needed the bathroom.

“Woo!” John stood up abruptly stretching his arms out wide in the air.

“Mr. Doe what happened to staying seated?” the guard chided, he seemed used to John's antics as he said it in a warm tone.

Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder pushing him back down to the bed. “I told you no sudden movements” Bruce scolded him.

“Alfred would have let me!” John huffed, crossing his arms, but he was soon smiling again.

When John was free to move his hands again, his lack of self-control was tougher to deal with.

He didn’t realize how used he had gotten to the man not grabbing stuff. Now when he came into the room the man would slide his hand under his jacket to grab his phone to play games on without asking. Or he’d pick up food that Bruce had brought and eat it without double-checking if Bruce had wanted it. He didn’t care though in the end; He’d give that damn man anything he wanted.

Bruce also found fingers in his hair everywhere they were walking.

“John, tone the public affection down” Bruce hushed to him.

“spoilsport” John frowned, pulling his hands away and crossing his arms

Bruce always waited until they were in private to show affection. Not because he was being secretive, but because he’s always been that kind of person with anyone.

As Bruce went to take his leave for the night, John always had a habit of milking as much affection as he could before he went. Today Bruce was lying back on the bed being held down by John who was claiming his lips. Of course, Bruce didn't mind, he always enjoyed connecting their mouths like this and tasting the man's own excitement. Fingers were roaming through his hair and he knew it was being turned into an absolute mess, as they held him firmly in place for the onslaught.

Bruce always had to practically pry the man off him when he stood up to take his leave, deciding he couldn't stay any longer or a staff member will come and kick him out. This time John clung to him so tight that he came off the bed with him. The man laughed by his ear with his arms around his neck. Bruce placed hands underneath the thighs around his waist, so he was holding him.

“John unfortunately I can’t take you home with me just yet…” Bruce scoffed as he leaned forward to place a final chaste kiss on his lips.

John whined and then let go, dropping his feet to the floor. But then he ran a sneaky hand up Bruce’s shirt.

“Are you still as buff as last time I checked?” John smirked, exploring the skin there, it tickled.

Bruce sucked in a breath at the contact. He hadn’t gone out as batman in ages, but he had kept up his diet. He was just so lost in going to work then coming home to hang out with John. It was so much more fun and enjoyable.

“What, so you get to transform your appearance and I have to stay fit and the same?” Bruce joked. brushing the man’s devilish hand away. He walked towards the door and opened it.

“I just needed to update your appearance in my head when I’m daydreaming” John wiggled his eyebrow, laying back on the bed with a grin.

“Lovely thoughts of us swimming I imagine”

“Definitely that!” John nodded, with a loud chuckle.

John was being so well behaved that pretty much all restrictions have been removed, he was allowed to walk around freely the asylum aside from the fact he just couldn’t leave the building.

This also meant he was allowed to be trusted with his things again. Items from his house had been salvaged and kept in custody. Bruce came into his room dumping the boxes in front of the man.

“My clothes!” John beamed, jumping up and down. He was surprised and shocked at seeing all his things again.

Bruce smirked carrying the last box into the room, “I’ll take whatever you don’t need back to the manor”

John was already rummaging through the boxes, he seemed to be eyeing all his shirts and choosing one to get himself out of his uniform. The poor man had been wearing white shirts and trousers for months, he must find it incredibly dull.

“What do you think?” John smiled, holding a shirt to his body.

“It reminds me when you use to have dark hair… but I suppose the purple matches the green”

“ahaha! Oh yeah! I’m going to have to re-think my style…” John giggled, tapping a finger to his chin in contemplation.

“Woah look at this old relic” Bruce held out the teddy bear he had gotten him from the mall.

“Ahahaha! He lives!” John gleamed, then frowned “We haven’t been very good parents…”

“Yeah well, sometimes you’ve got to toughen kids up” Bruce joked.

Bruce noticed John had grabbed the hair gel from the box and went straight to the mirror in the bathroom. He followed him in and watched John squeeze the gel between his groomed fingers. He didn’t know how the man could find the time to care for his nails in such a fashion.

John swept the green locks behind his ears, twiddling the front to have strays of hair over his forehead. Bruce scoffed; the man tret his hair like sculpting a piece of art.

“ahaha! Bruce look at it!” John grinned wide in the mirror, rotating his head from side to side to study his newly styled hair.

“Very handsome” Bruce commended, he wanted to run his hands through it, but he resisted the urge, not that that John held back his urges with him. He walked out of the asylum with his hair pointing every which way from John not having the same curtesy.

“What about, green hair, green eyes, and a green shirt?” Bruce suggested, stepping out of the bathroom and roaming his eyes back over the selection of outfits.

“ahaha! I knew you were secretly a fashionista!” John giggled, dashing out of the bathroom to join Bruce's side. He bent down and started rummaging through the clothes, picking out a glossy jade shirt.

He slid off his white t-shirt over his head, throwing it to Bruce who caught it. Bruce's eyes roamed over the man's body before he covered it up again.

John began to button up his new and much more fetching attire. He then unbuttoned his white trousers and slipped out of them. He fell on the floor as he tripped up trying to step out of them too fast.

“Slow down” Bruce laughed, the scene was extra funny as the man was in his briefs. He also grew flustered at seeing the sight of the man's lower half.

“I’m Just so excited!” He was wrestling with a new pair of black pants, tugging them over his legs as he rested on his back. Once they were halfway on he sprung up to his feet, pulling them up all the way, and zipped up his fly.

The man was doing up his belt, as Bruce leaned down to pick up a bow tie from one of the boxes. “What if we put this on? The whole suit?”

“Oh yeah, dress me up! I love it! aw, I miss my gala suit...” John wined, rolling his cuffs up neatly to his elbows.

Bruce scoffed dropping the tie and searching deeper in the boxes, “You can’t make walking around in a gala suit everyday fashion”

“Why not?”

“Just- I don’t know, because” Bruce chuckled, rummaging through the boxes he found something interesting. “Jeanie’s makeup… it’s used… how did a hallucination do that?” Bruce quirked a brow at John.

“Uh… I dunno creepy…” John rubbed the back of his head, looking embarrassed and glowing bright red.

“John?” Bruce smirked.

“Maybe once or twice!” he waved his hands flustered.

“Let me try putting this on you’ Bruce joked, waving a lipstick.

“No!” the other man turned away abruptly, crossing his arms.

“Put it on me then?” Bruce purred, John glanced back at him wide-eyed. His face glowed even redder.

"How do you put it on? Rub it on your finger first?" Bruce acted ignorantly, staining a fingertip red.

"No, like this!" John snatched it from his grip and then placed it on his lips perfectly, he’s definitely done this more than twice. Bruce grinned, glad that he made the man want to put it on and his red lips were captivating.

"and then.." John grabbed the other makeup from the box and pushed himself to his feet. He went into the bathroom.

"There’s more?" Bruce was very curious.

He joined John in the ensuite and watched him in the bathroom mirror, the man knew exactly what he was doing.

"Wait wait-" John seemed to not want Bruce spying in on the process.

"no wait.. I think you use that on your eyes" Bruce commented as he noticed John go in for some sort of pencil.

"What? Hell no! Oh, I need to shave-" the man drawled.

"You've got nothing to shave" Bruce scoffed, running fingers along his cheek.

John was busy lining his lips, then tugged down on an eye to run some sort of pencil along it. He then picked the brightest shade of pink eyeshadow and then went in with a darker tone in his creases, it was making them very seductive.

"I think I've got a thing for men in makeup..." Bruce admitted, as he watched him. Then he found he had to glance his eyes away for a moment, he might even need to go take a cold shower.

John laughed wildly at his statement and continued concentrating on his ministrations.

Bruce straightened out his hair in the mirror and with them standing so close John was brushing against the side of him. Then his face was being grabbed and the man was rubbing some sort of cream under his eyes. It appeared to be the same substance that was used on the gala night.

"This stuffs useless to me now, I wonder if I can get a tone in white" The man chuckled, his fingers gripping Bruces' chin. He felt like he was being hypnotized as he looked upon the man's done-up face.

John released him from his grip and Bruce stared at his reflection, the dark circles were gone from under his eyes. "You know this stuff really works, although it doesn't quite make me as good-looking as you"

John scoffed, "You flatter me too much"

The man then wrapped fingers around his neck and pulled him in for an unexpected kiss on the cheek. When he pulled away, he laughed maniacally. Bruce spotted a red mark in the shape of John's lips was stained on his cheek.

“I think it’s dangerous giving you this stuff” he scoffed, wiping it from his face in the sink.

“It’s annoying me how you’re still managing to keep your hands off me darling” John purred leaning in closer, trying to trap him against the sink as he pulled Bruce's hands to his waist.

“Because _darling_ … I’m trying to get us both out of here, and you need a lesson in self-control” Bruce retorted, sliding out from between the man and stepping out of the bathroom with a smirk.

“Grrr I’m doing, well, aren’t I?!” John huffed following him out.

Bruce flashed a white smile, “You’re doing very well”

“It’s getting closer to John leaving…” the doctor said

Bruce was so happy to hear it. “Really how soon?”

The doctor scoffed, not believing it herself. “Well he’s passing everything, taking his meds, hasn’t had an episode in weeks if not months. He’s pretty much functioning as a normal adult. Or as well as one can be expected to behave with his condition…"

Bruce gleamed, he doesn't think he's ever felt so happy before since the night John tried to kiss him in the hotel room.

"if we kept him in here any longer it may start to actually make him worse. He needs to start seeing the outside and people again”

“I couldn’t agree more, you tell me when and I’ll have everything arranged for him”

“Freedom!!!” John howled at the top of his lungs as he burst out the entrance doors to the asylum. Bruce had just been caught up doing all the paperwork as John seems to have forgotten there’s a whole legal process to this. He had also moved all of John's things into the car. Bruce soon joined him outside.

The man was found sprawled on the ground and breathing in the air and bathing in the sun. The weather was boiling, it was at the peak point of summer with blue clear skies and glaring sun.

In the burning heat, Bruce wore aviator shades, and his black pants were burning him alive, but his white shirt and open collar let the wind blow through. He was chewing on mint gum.

He bent down and hauled John up by the collar off the floor. Nothing’s changed it seems.

“Can you save you weird antics till we at least get away from the asylum, where they can't see us?” Bruce scolded.

“Okay hehe!”

Bruce placed his hand in Johns, interlacing their fingers as they walked down the steps. Well, he was walking, and John was more like jumping. He was going to end up being a husband and caretaker to this man and weirdly enough he didn’t mind that at all.

“God it’s like you are running off about ten thousand levels of sugar” he scoffed.

"Oh that reminds me, I can buy all the food I want now!" John cheered again, swinging their interlaced hands.

They made it to the Lamborghini and as Bruce unlocked the vehicle from a distance John let go of his hand and raced to open the door to the driver's seat and dived in.

“I’m driving!” he hollered, grabbing his hands on the steering wheel.

“No, I don't think so” he ducked under the door frame and shoved John into the passenger seat, not caring about the man's shoes getting on the leather and dashboard. “You can have lots of fun when we get back home”

“But I want to have fun noooooowww!" he whined, rolling his head against the headrest. His feet drumming against the seat mats.

“Okay John, you need to take the excitement level and turn it down by about ninety-nine percent” Bruce smirked, turning the engine on, the sports car revved to life, as well as the much-needed air-con.

"Okay...." the man exhaled, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. "Sorry, it’s just hard to control all the thoughts!"

"It’s okay" Bruce smirked as he reversed out. Giving a light squeeze to the man's thigh. "Keep it up you’re doing great"

“Wait I don’t want to go to the manor yet! I want to see the city!” John beamed with wide eyes, turning to face him.

Bruce stopped at the exit. This man really had him wrapped around his finger.

“Well, where specifically?”

“…Buffy’s steak house?”

“You know what… alright.”

They walked down the street and John was amazed. Seeing the overtowering skyscrapers again. His eyes were rattling around in his head taking everything all in at once that he had missed out on for so long.

Bruce noticed the usual stares except they weren’t looking at him now, they were looking at John who didn’t seem to be noticing them at all. He was too busy roaming his eyes over everything.

“Nice look dude!” A shirtless man said, holding out a fist to John.

“Thanks!” John beamed and he roamed his eyes over the man's body. Bruce batted the man's knuckles away with a grunt before John could return the gesture.

Bruce's celebrity status and his calmness around John seemed to be doing him favors. If Bruce Wayne liked the man then there’s obviously nothing wrong with him, the irony.

They made it to the restaurant and John leaned back in the booth with his hair styled, scanning the menu. He looked sharp as always in his stylish shirt and pants and Bruce found himself feeling more protective of him than he’s ever felt before.

"Mr. Wayne, it is an honor! Who is your friend, where have you just come from?" the manager inquired, as he approached them, clearly taken aback by John's unique appearance.

"Arkham asylum!" John laughed.

"Woah! He is very funny!" the man pointed to John, whilst looking at Bruce with a smile. Clearly not believing the answer.

“Thanks ahaha!”

“You know John, I think Jeanie was right, you’re definitely going to be a star” Bruce chuckled, after the manager had left them alone, much to his relief.

John leaned forward with a wide grin, “I like people starring at me! It’s like having an audience!" He was so giddy and excited. "I-I should do something wild to make them applaud-“

“No, you're going to stay calm and relaxed, and we're not going to ruin this incredible occasion,” Bruce said calmly.

John nodded, “oh yeah, good point!” He laughed. "Maybe a few months down the line…?”

“no” Bruce smiled looking at the menu.

“I don’t care what you say, I’m doing it anyway!” John huffed.

“So the usual routine between us?” Bruce scoffed.

John laughed, kicking him under the table.

“You boys are back late; I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival all evening!" Alfred chimed, as he opened the door for them to enter into the manor.

"Alfreddd!!" John jumped on him and kissed his cheek, "I missed you so much!"

"You’re acting as though I’ve died and been revived!" the butler chortled, as John's arms wrapped tightly around him.

Eventually, the man pulled away, his breathing erratic "You know- you know what we should all do?! We should just all go somewhere! Let's go on vacation somewhere crazy right now!" he bounced up and down on the carpet.

"Shhh..." Bruce hushed, covering his hands over John's eyes from behind him, "let’s calm some of those senses"

"It’s a hot day outside! We could get in the pool!" John waved his hands out in front of him, unable to see.

"Let’s move all your stuff in first, how about that?"

Bruce debated on showing John, Batman. He knew the man was going to find out eventually and he had no clue how he would react. It had been months since he himself has even gone down in the cave. He had been so busy rehabilitating John that he had lost the craving to prowl the night and stop crime.

He had asked John to meet him in the office downstairs, where the secret door was that led into the gloomy cave. Bruce's hands were sweating as he was so nervous.

The quirky man appeared leaning in the doorway, hands in his pant pockets. He wore a devilish smirk.

"John, there’s something I want to show you..." Bruce started, his voice not as confident as he was hoping it to be.

"Yeah, I bet" The man laughed as he approached him, one foot in front of the other, and then he pulled their mouths together. Bruce let him slide his tongue into his mouth making him shiver and he pulled away dumbfounded.

"Woah, what was that for?" he gasped, looking at the man's lips.

"am I going to finally receive my reward for getting out?" the man purred as he held him in place by the hair, and as they were the same height their noses and lips brushed as John kept them close together.

Bruce let his hand fall from the bookshelf.

"Reward? That isn't why I called you down here..." Bruce scoffed, quirking a brow.

"Oh... well are you just going to resist me forever?"

The man claimed his lips again as he pushed him against a wall. Bruce parted his legs to let the man slide his leg between them. John's thigh pressed against his groin, and it was vice versa as Bruce's thigh could feel the man's own want pressing against him that got him feeling something he hasn’t in a very long time.

“John…” Bruce groaned.

“So the man does have a drive down there?” John laughed.

Bruce hasn’t always been a fan of these situations as it’s such a moment of lack of control. It’s why he doesn’t do it often, but John was very persuasive as always.

“Here or up in your room?” John breathed against his lips.

“That’s should be obvious” Bruce chided, this man was going to kill him through seduction.

"I really want to undress you..." John pleaded against his lips, tugging Bruce's shirt out from his trousers and running his hands up his body, gripping his waist and pulling him closer to press their bodies together.

"Can we at least make it up the stairs first?"

Bruce barely made it through the door before John's arms were wrapping around him and tugging at his belt, undoing the buckle and unzipping his fly to slide a hand under his briefs.

"John-" Bruce gasped and groaned as the man groped him. He grabbed the man's hands and pulled them out. "You need to slow down... take it easy, there's no time limit"

He turned around to face him. John's breathing was erratic and he should have seen this coming, the man looked like he was going to pounce on him.

"Slow? o-okay..." he stuttered out, holding his hands in the air.

"Have you ever slept with a man before?"

"No..." John groaned out, he seemed like he really wanted to. Bruce laughed.

"Well... why don't you try being more seductive about it"

John nodded, unbuttoning Bruce's shirt properly and then sliding his hands around his body appreciating his skin and leaning forward to place a kiss on his neck. He then tugged off bruces shirt completley and dropped it to the floor.

Bruce held John back and then slid his hand down the opening of his unbuttoned shirt, making John's breathing hitch.

“I've wanted to do that since the Ferris wheel. “

John's eyes went wide, “Well don’t stop there”

John was much more open and sensual compared to Bruce when being touched. Puffing his chest and leaning forward baring his neck as he moaned in encouragement.

Bruce felt like it was an honor and a privilege to touch him in this way and his hand drifted to brush a stay strand of green hair off his face delicately. He only wanted to care for him, but the man had a clear larger want now.

Bruce’s hands dropped to the man’s belt and began to unbuckle it, John's hands remained in his pant pockets as he let him. Bruce slid it out from its hoops and threw it aside.

“Do you care about this shirt?” He breathed against the man's lips.

“what-“

He could just buy him a new one. Bruce ripped it open not bothering to undo all of the buttons.

“…really?” John chuckled.

Bruce grabbed at the man’s trousers, unzipping his fly as he pushed them down. As he knelt, John ran his fingers through his hair holding on to his head for balance as he stepped out of them and his socks, getting him left in his briefs. Bruce stood to place his warm hands on that cooler body, he wanted to engulf him in his warmth.

John smirked and dived on the bed, face first and on his belly. Bruce removed himself of his trousers and briefs with a smirk and he was completely bare now and he moved to kneel over the man’s legs. Sliding those briefs off them skinny hips, revealing a view that got his blood quickly moving downwards.

When Bruce lied on top of him, both of them were bare now, skin against skin all over, his excitement was clear as he pressed his hips down against the other man's. John groaned, gasping out at the contact in a frenzy of bliss. He gipped at the pillows raising his hips against Bruce’s own.

Bruce pressed him back down against the bed and ran both of his hands up the man’s back, over his shoulders, fingers settling to wrap around his neck and John moaned as he squeezed.

“You could choke me out right here... this wouldn’t be a bad way to go...” he breathed.

Bruce grinned, “I’m not finished with you yet”

John's laugh was muffled by the pillow, then he turned his head, “keep going…”

Despite his confidence, John's breathing was erratic and the man's eyes were wide and bright green. Bruce felt hypnotized when he gazed into them.

Whilst the man beneath him was trembling, Bruce calmly reached into a draw searching through rubber bands, bubble gum, and a pack of balloons to find what he wanted.

“you’ve made yourself at home’ Bruce chuckled.

“mhmm…” John giggled, kicking his legs. He wiggled unbearably frantic underneath him, trapped between his large thighs and pinned down by his weight.

“Shhh..” he reassured John with words, as his hands were busy.

Johns kept up his squirming till he leaned down again, pressing his broad chest to his back. They were flush against each other once more and John moaned and jumped when he felt cold fingers run against his skin.

The man pushed himself up on his elbows, his head hanging down into his chest, as he tolerated Bruce’s ministrations. Digits easing themselves within him. Bruce enjoyed making his back arch, muscles moving under his white skin. His breathing the hardest it’s been now. Bruce mouthed at his back.

Bruce paused in his ministrations within the other man, letting John regain some of his composure. He stroked a hand through the other's hair to soothe him.

“Ahh....” John breathed. The man looked liked he was going to explode, his nerves were all on edge, and being in someone’s control like this must be killing him. The anticipation of it all made Bruce work effectively.

“Calm down” Bruce commanded again, pushing John's head down into the pillow to make him unwind.

“Mhmm, that’s it!” John laughed, groaning into the sheets. Bruce's hand remained in his hair, pressing him down. The man was sweating all over, he was flushed heavy and hot, his breathing uncontrolled. John's harsh breaths were the loudest sounds in the room.

He moved his hand away from John's hair to balance himself on the man's back. Bruce could feel John's rib cage expanding erratically under his palm. His own heart was pounding and Bruce disciplined himself to remain calm and orderly.

“Do you want to roll over?” He asked, finished with winding John up to a point where it seemed unbearable with how the man was fidgeting and murmuring beneath him.

John couldn’t find any words from his panting mouth, he just groaned. Bruce turned him over, anyway, deciding it’s for the best.

With John on his back, he could look down upon the man again, his chest heaving, white skin and bare, his bright eyes wide, and his hair was stuck to his skin. John wrapped his arms over his face, hiding and almost shying away embarrassed and flustered. His hands coaxing through his own hair tugging and pulling.

Bruce grinned, as he grabbed the man’s hands and placed them on his chest. John hitched a breath, as he let himself explore the skin there. Groomed fingers ran over his pec muscles and down his abdomen, pressing into the indentations of his abs. Bruce moaned himself when John ran his hands back up and teased one of his nipples which earned a giggle from John. Bruce leaned down to claim the man's lips once more to save himself from his humiliation.

“I wanted to do this since I first met you…” he murmured against the man’s lips.

"I know, I should have let you..." John's eyes roamed his face.

"no... the wait was so much better"

Bruce gripped on the man's waist and buried himself in-between the other's thighs and aligned himself to start easing his way into him, making them inseparable.

Bruce captured his lips again and John moaned into it. The man ran a hand through the back of his hair, pulling him down to press their lips closer. It was becoming all too much.

Bruce wrapped his hands around John's pelvis, bringing them together all the way and properly aligned, John’s own excitement trapped between them, making their skin stick together. It made John stop laughing and choke on a groan for once as he felt Bruce within him again.

John wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck, he was analyzing his muscles there. They were prominent, his shoulder creating large dips and crevices between his collar bones. Bruce earned himself another moan from John as he eased his way out and back in again. John parted his legs, making sure he made it all the way.

"John...." Bruce choked above him, his head falling against the man's chest. His own breathing was starting to hitch and stutter and grow erratic which gave John some of his confidence back. He roamed his hands over Bruce’s back and then ran his fingers against the strands of Bruce's hair, nails scratching his scalp.

Then John sat up on his elbows, wanting to gain a look at how they were combined, but Bruce put a hand in the back of his hair and tugged him down, holding him in place against the pillows making the man moan at being subdued. Bruce mouthed at his neck, scraping his teeth lightly over his skin…

The other man's nails dug into the muscles of his back, scratching along his skin. Bruce hissed out at the sensation, the man liked it rough but that’s alright, he’d have to get a lot rougher than that if he wanted to hurt him.

With the worst of it over, he could tell the man beneath him enjoyed the feeling of it all. His hands stroked up Bruce's thigh to connect with his muscley cheeks, grabbing and squeezing at the muscle there. John then aided him with the thrusting of his hips, encouraging him to bury himself deep inside of him.

Bruce moaned at John's aid against his skin, and wrapped his arms around the other's head, enclosing him completely. His body was fully pressed flush against John's, his whole weight bested on him, and John's lips pressed against his own and Bruce began to go all at it now. His lust growing, and his breathing erratic. His chest was heaving against John's now calm one.

"John..." he moaned against those lips, as he moved inside him. Those groomed hands were still encouraging him.

John was calm now, eyes closed taking it all in. He was docile and in a sort of strange bliss. The feeling of being filled and wrapped and enclosed in hot warmth, muscles, and arms must be getting to him.

Bruce wanted to kiss him again but didn’t want to disturb him. Whatever transient he was in, all he could do was keep up the pace. His skin was sweating and radiating heat against John’s cooler body.

He leaned his head down, placing his forehead against the other man's. His chest pushing John down further into the mattress with his own weight, allowing him to get a sharper angle, making John stutter out a moan right against his own lips. The man's breath hitting his cheek when he hit a certain spot that sent a shiver up the other's spine.

John's legs wrapping tighter around him, his walls closing in on him and Bruce was finding it all too much. He could feel himself riding closer to his climax, finding the light leading to euphoria and running to it.

He slipped a hand between them, his other was left still coaxing and gripping at the tail ends of John's hair.

Bruce’s searched for Johns’ owns want between them and the man hitched out a breath and jolted up at the unexpected contact his eyes opening to half-lidded, and Bruce connected with them for a moment before the other man shut them groaning and arching his back, thrusting his hips into Bruce touch encouraging the ecstasy.

Bruce leaned down again and kissed the man’s neck in a soothing and calming fashion. Now both their breathing was erratic. Their chests and lungs and ribs pounding at each other’s and John was releasing deep growling noses as his climax grew closer. His own hands rubbed against his face and then gripped at his hair. They then moved upwards, stretching his arms out, as they grab the headboard. Gripping on the edge of it, he braced himself. He looked lost in a transient state of bliss, terror, and excitement.

Bruce grew the speed of his thrusting and his pace with coaxing John’s need, wanting to make sure he reached his climax first. He wanted to watch him, watch that face go from slack to contorted and it did.

John's breathing was heavy and erratic, his eyes closing shut tight, his grip tightening on the headboard causing veins to show under his skin on his hands and arms. Then his mouth hung wide as he released a husky pent-up groan that Bruce found to be music to his ears, bringing himself seconds from climaxing.

When John opened his eyes, green and radiating to meet his own it pushed him over the edge. Now it was the other's turn to watch.

Bruce barred his teeth as his thrusting became erratic and out of rhythm, holding himself deep within the other's body, pushing them both down into the bed as he gripped John's pelvis bringing them as close as he could together as he found his release. He let out a deep rumble and breathless groan...

“John...” he spilled the name from his lips again.

The other watching every bit with wide eyes and panting breath, his hand still clinging to the headboard.

Bruce found himself grinning causing John to grin wildly back, groomed fingers caressing the sides of his face, holding him still as he finished his last thrusts.

John laughed at the atmosphere of it all.

Bruce found himself slowly withdrawing and collapsing on John who was exhausted beneath him. Their chest now heaving together, and their noses pressed into each other’s cheeks.

“mhm... we should have done that at the gala” John breathed, the first words spoken in what felt like so long. He placed kisses on Bruce's sweaty face.

Bruce couldn’t find words and was still coming down from the high. He felt like he was crushing John with all his weight on him. But the other man didn’t seem to mind, he never did with these things.

Instead, hands petted through his hair, as he lied on the quirky man beneath him, lips hushing and willing him to go to sleep.

Bruce will tell John about batman another day, for now, he’ll rest with someone he loves and celebrate today.

Bruce was standing in the foyer; a long-awaited letter had come through the door and he stood there holding it.

Alfred came up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his daze.

“You know Master Bruce; from the war, I’ve suffered from trauma myself. The shell shock still keeps me up at night. It’s nothing for you to worry about." he scoffed, at seeing Bruce's surprised face.

"My point is, we’re all a little bit mad” he chuckled, as he slid his hand off Bruce's shoulder and took his leave.

The butler’s words encouraged Bruce to open the envelop that had been sent from Arkham Asylum, regarding his last visit. He held out the letter with shaky fingers in front of his face and read it carefully.

His test results declared him sane. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for finishing my fic! I hope you enjoyed it, it's the first one I’ve ever written and I've finally gotten to experience what it's like on the other end. I'm definitely more appreciative now to all those who publish stories themselves! 
> 
> Also thank you for all the lovely comments! I've never received such positive messages before, and wow I won't ever forget them! <33 Much love to you all, now I have to start living in reality again haha! (and by that I mean read other people’s batjokes fanfics mawahaha) xoxo
> 
> (If you enjoyed please kudo and feel free to comment and tell me your thoughts! I love to hear them <3)


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